Everyone Needs a Little Jack in their Life - Part Three
by Kelcor
Summary: Tags/Missing Scenes for Cigar Cutter (plus Compass, Hole Puncher, and whatever else strikes my fancy! lol). Multi-Chapter! Lots of h/c! Protective/Fatherly Jack & Hurt Mac, also Hurt Jack/Protective Mac - they switch a couple times! :-) I hope you all enjoy my take on an AU for after the Season One Finale. Rated T to be safe. CSI crossover! COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N 1 First and Foremost, I want to thank Ridley C. James and Gib for helping me out so much on this project with their indispensable input, suggestions, and support! Both of you are amazing writers and, as it turns out, editors/beta readers! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I couldn't have done this without you!_

 _A/N 2 This is just my AU on what might happen after the end of Season 1. Focuses most on Mac and Jack (of course!) but the other characters come into play, as well! Plus, some_ ** _surprise_** _visitors show up in Chapter Six! ;-) There will be some flashbacks aka missing scenes from the final three episodes (Compass, Hole Puncher, and Cigar Cutter) as well as possibly one from Corkscrew! :-) The chapters are written up to the middle of Chapter Nine. Some of you may recognize the first couple of chapters. I did post the beginnings of this story before but it seemed like something went wrong with the post, so I took it down after a few hours... and then I decided to change it up a bit and make it a longer multi-chapter story. It looks like it will be about 10 chapters, and I'll typically be posting one or two chapters a week. :-) EXCEPT for today... :-D Since these ones are short, I'm posting two back-to-back!_

 **CHAPTER ONE**

Matty sat in the passenger seat of the Phoenix-issued vehicle. As much as she hated to admit it, every time she visited with Murdoc, she left the prison with a severe case of the heeby-jeebies. If he were playing a part on a TV show or a movie, he'd definitely get her vote for 'Creepiest Male Actor'.

But this wasn't a TV show, and it certainly wasn't a movie. This was real life and Murdoc was a dangerous sociopath. She reached into her bag and extracted the one personal item he had, which translated into the one and only way she could punish him—short of threatening his relationship with his son again, which still left a bad taste in her mouth. Desperate times called for desperate measures but Matty had played that card once already, and that was more than enough for her. Besides, although she couldn't be entirely certain that Murdoc wouldn't hesitate to hurt even his own son, the fact that he had taken so many steps to ensure the boy's protection spoke to his… well, if not love for the boy, at least affection. Or perhaps, and more than likely, it was merely the result of a sociopath not wanting to be out-maneuvered.

As she flipped through the pages of _Paradise Lost_ , she couldn't help but wonder if Murdoc's son was just yet another pawn in Murdoc's vengeful game of chess. Instead of just being one or two steps ahead of everyone else, it seemed like he had finished the entire game and was simply biding his time until all the other players caught up – lying in the shadows, anxiously waiting for the perfect opportunity to kill each and every one of them.

Finally, making a decision that had been weighing on her mind for some time now, Matty turned to Agent Halderman who was sitting behind the wheel. "Take me to LAX."

"Ma'am?"

"You heard me, _Jeeves_ ," she countered, making sure her tone conveyed exactly how she felt about her orders being questioned.

Halderman glanced in the rearview mirror, seemingly having a silent conversation with his fellow agents in the back seat. Then, with a terse shrug, he said simply, "LAX. Yes, ma'am."

* * *

The sun was bright, the heat was sweltering, and the GTO's roof was down – Jack was livin' the dream! He seriously _loved_ road trips!

As he belted out the latest country track on the mix tape he saved for just this type of occasion, a glance in the mirror told him MacGyver was livin' a totally different kind of dream. A bad one. He'd actually fallen asleep less than an hour into the drive, getting Jack's spidey-senses tingling about the kid's quality of sleep since the fiasco with the Organization the week before. The current nightmare— _was it still called a nightmare when it happened during the day?_ Jack thought absently. Anyway, what ever it was called, Mac being trapped in it only confirmed Jack's suspicions.

Tin Man was still sitting in the passenger seat, a joke that was supposed to only last until their first stop for gas before hitting the 405. Unfortunately, Mac had already started his little nap by that point, so Jack had decided to let him sleep. Clearly, that had been a mistake. He couldn't even reach back to wake the kid without risking an accident – never before had Jack regretted surpassing the speed limit in his GTO.

He quickly decided to take the next exit. Mildly surprised that Mac continued to sleep through the honking horns from the drivers who disagreed with his skilled merging maneuvers, Jack made it safely to the right-hand side of the freeway without incident and then onto the offramp.

He needed to find a way to get the kid to sit up front with him without making it obvious that it was due to any kind of mother-henning on his part. Jack was certain that Mac's grandfather had done the best he could raising him, but the then 12-year-old had still had to grow up way too fast, making him a fiercely independent adult who felt like he should be able to handle any and all circumstances on his own.

Even after taking several hits from three mercs, not to mention his fight with Zito or Tennant or whatever the guy's name was, he'd attempted to hide his injuries and pass himself off as 'fine'.

Well, screw that. Jack hadn't accepted it then, and no way was he going to accept it now. Or ever, for that matter. Mac may be an adult but there were times that Jack couldn't help but see the vulnerable 12-year-old boy in his eyes. After all, does anyone ever truly get over being abandoned by the one person who was supposed to be there for him and protect him, no matter what?

There was no doubt in Jack's mind that MacGyver was a true-blue hero who knew all about self-sacrifice—Jack himself been the beneficiary of the blond's penchant for putting the needs of others before his own more times than he wanted to count. But the kid had grown up with absolutely no idea how it felt to be the one on the receiving end of that equation. And Jack had spent the past five years trying to show him.

But it was a process. If he was too pushy or protective, Mac would just shut down and pull away from him. So, Jack had long ago learned to take it one step (read: tragedy) at a time, and to always go with the whole frog in a pot of cold water analogy—with MacGyver being the frog trying to instantly escape any situation that made him appear the least bit vulnerable, and Jack being the pot of water trying to make him realize it was okay to let someone else be the strong one once in a while.

The 'boiling point' in this analogy would be Mac's walls finally coming down and the kid actually allowing Jack entrance into his little fortress of solitude. If Jack tried to rush it, to bulldozer his way in, then Mac would simply pull even further into himself and promptly jump out of the 'pot of cold water'.

No. Getting through to this particular 'frog' would take a certain amount of charm and finesse—both of which Jack had in abundance. And darn it if the former Delta Commando couldn't help but smirk at how Mac would react to being the frog in _any_ analogy.

By the time Jack pulled into the parking lot of the tiny truck stop diner, Mac was becoming increasingly agitated. "Why are we stopping?" Sparky asked from the passenger seat. "Have we broken down?"

"Not yet," Jack said, taking a brief moment to contemplate his best friend in the backseat. "But it's nothing a little TLC can't cure."

"Would you like me to search for the closest mechanic using my newly installed GPS technology?"

"What?" Jack had been so focused on MacGyver, he hadn't even realized he and Sparky had been talking about two totally different kinds of pending breakdowns. "No," he told the robot. "I got this."

He got out of the car and allowed the door to close louder than usual, hoping that would wake the kid. Nope, not even a flinch. So, he braced one hand on the back of the driver's seat, then gripped the slender shoulder firmly with the other. "Mac," he said softly, giving him a gentle shake. Then louder, "MacGyver!"

Mac startled awake, hands automatically reaching out and grabbing whatever he could get a hold of, while barely biting back the shout that threatened to leak through the nightmare and into the waking world. His heart thundered in his chest at the unfamiliar surroundings, until his frantic gaze landed on Jack and he was able to breathe normally again.

He cleared his throat and, once he was confident he could speak without his voice shaking, he asked, "How long was I asleep?"

Jack looked at his watch with a casualness that belied the apprehension in his eyes. "About an hour or so."

MacGyver blushed slightly when he realized his left hand had gotten a death grip on Jack's other arm in his escape from the nightmare. Jack acted like it was no big deal; Mac begged to differ. Forcing himself to release his friend, Mac scrubbed a hand down his face in an effort to clear away the effects of the dream, then glanced around again striving for casual when he asked, "Where are we?"

"Next few hours are gonna be nothin' but desert. Figured we should stop for a bite to eat while we still can."

"Yeah," Mac said, fuzzy mind still trying to catch up. A week filled with almost completely sleepless nights had left him with a bit of a sluggish response time. "Good idea." He unfastened his seatbelt and climbed out of the GTO. Instead of asking Jack to open the door or leaning forward to open it himself, he decided to jump over it, needing his partner to see that he was fine… because he was.

A fib that would have been far more believable if he hadn't stumbled upon his landing to the pavement. Jack's quick reflexes were the only reason Mac didn't faceplant right there in the parking lot.

"You okay?" Jack asked, no longer trying to hide his concern.

"Of course," MacGyver deflected. "My legs are just cramped from being relegated to the backseat for the past hour."

"Well, then, you'll just have to sit up front with me for the remainder of the trip," Jack said, turning just in time to hide the smirk playing on his lips.

Mac watched his partner head into the diner, unable to shake the feeling that he'd just been played.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

 _ONE WEEK EARLIER_

 _Jack stepped out into the hallway that led to Medical, but realized two seconds later that Mac was still in the elevator. Slapping his hand against the gears to prevent the doors from closing, he raised his eyebrows at Mac in silent question._

" _What?"_

" _You know what," Jack told him._

" _I'm fine, Jack. Besides, Bozer's the one who got stabbed!"_

" _Dude, you just got the crap beat outta ya' by three mercs! You are not fine! Bozer's getting the medical attention he needs at Mount Sinai. Come to think of it, I could drag you there if you'd prefer."_

" _No!" Mac said a little too quickly. "You took on just as many of them as I did," he added sheepishly. "And, okay, yeah, I got some bumps and bruises, but what's Medical going to do other than give me a bunch of pain pills that I have no intention of taking?"_

" _First of all," Jack said, taking Mac by the elbow and firmly guiding him out of the elevator and down the hallway, "yes, you will take the pills, even if I gotta force 'em down your throat. Secondly, do you not see me headed to Medical with you? I'm pretty sure I didn't turn into the Invisible Man over the past few minutes."_

" _Jack – " MacGyver knew full well that Jack was only going along to make sure Mac got checked out._

" _And, besides, I had the protection of my Kevlar vest – which is not just good for blockin' bullets, by the way – and so did all the mercs, not to mention their helmets and gloves," he added, pausing their trip down the hall to tilt MacGyver's head to the side so he could get a better look at the cut on his cheekbone._

 _Two other agents chose that moment to walk past, bandages showing that they likely had just finished up in Medical themselves. They each cast sidelong glances at Jack and MacGyver, earning a blush from Mac as he pushed Jack's hands away. "I'll get checked out by the doctors, Jack."_

" _Hey, I have emergency field training."_

" _Yeah, well, this isn't the field. And the crisis – which caused the emergency in the first place – has been averted. So, Doctor Dalton can stand down."_

" _Fine, fine," Jack said, smirking as he increased his pace to catch up with a blond genius who was suddenly in a rush. Mac was going to willingly allow Medical staff to check him over? Mission accomplished, and Jack hadn't even been trying. "I wouldn't be surprised to find out that you have at least a couple bruised ribs, brother. Possibly even a fracture or two."_

" _Never denied having bruises, Jack."_

 _The older agent scoffed. "Bruised ribs ain't nothin' like regular, run o' the mill bruises, and you know it."_

 _A couple steps in the lead, MacGyver arrived at the sliding doors leading to Medical before Jack. The place looked like a M.A.S.H. unit; medical staff hustling and bustling around the room like rats in a maze, with each patient playing the part of an injured piece of cheese._

 _Mac spun around and moved to pass Jack, heading back the way they had come. "Oh well," he said breezily, "they're too busy. I'll just come back at another – "_

" _Whoa, whoa, hold on there, Hoss!" Jack put out an arm to block his path, inadvertently pressing on Mac's midsection and earning a hiss of pain from his partner. "Sorry, sorry," he said, moving his hand up to place his calloused palm on the back of MacGyver's neck instead – and if his grip helped his friend breathe through the pain, then Jack was good with that._

" _I'm okay," Mac told him, but didn't immediately brush off the support._

 _Jack took that as a win and left his hand where it was, steering MacGyver through the sliding doors and into the midst of the current craziness of Phoenix Medical. "Doc Hawk," he called out._

 _A man in a white lab coat, presumably 'Doc Hawk' looked up and motioned for them to wait a moment while he finished bandaging a patient's badly burned hand._

 _Jack feigned offense at MacGyver's look of surprise. "What? I do have friends, you know."_

 _That fact didn't surprise Mac at all. However, out loud, he simply said, "You do tend to grow on people. Not unlike various types of fungi," he added with a smirk._

" _Aw, thanks, Mac!" Jack exclaimed, grinning widely. "I have lots of fun with you, too!"_

 _MacGyver huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head fondly. "No, that wasn't what I – "_

" _Jackie, m'boy! I haven't seen you since the paperwork for my transfer was finalized; thank you for that, by the way!" Doc Hawk accepted Jack's firm handshake, then pulled him in for a rough embrace._

" _No thanks necessary," Jack dismissed. "Phoenix Medical needs more men like you! Hawkenbury, I'd like you to meet my partner, MacGyver."_

 _Doc Hawk whipped his attention to MacGyver. "So, you're the boy genius who can do no wrong," he exclaimed._

" _I don't know about that," Mac said, cheeks turning a slight shade of pink as he shook the man's hand._

 _"Well, I do!_ _Jack brags about you all the time," the doctor revealed, seeming to take a tiny bit of joy from Jack's obvious discomfort. He leaned in, placing a hand up as if to whisper a secret to Mac but speaking perfectly loud enough for Jack to hear – "He sounds like a proud papa bear, if you ask me," he added with a wink._

 _Now, it was Jack's turn to blush. "Okay, okay, no one asked you," he said good naturedly, placing himself between the doctor and MacGyver. "Stop embarrassing the kid," he muttered, canting his head at Doc Hawk beseechingly._

 _The doctor's responding laugh was kind and playful. "Are you sure it's MacGyver that I'm embarrassing, Jack?"_

" _Which room, smart ass?" Jack asked, unable to completely hide his grin—Hawkenbury's laugh always had been contagious._

 _Doc Hawk pointed to the back of the room. "Last door on the right," he told them, still chuckling softly to himself. "I'll be with you in a few minutes."_

" _Just make sure you switch hats from class-clown to medical doctor," Jack told him. He led MacGyver back to the exam room, and said softly, "Great doctor, but he lies through his teeth."_

" _Oh, so you don't brag about me to your friends?" Mac asked, pretending his feelings were hurt by the news._

" _Aha! So, you_ _admit_ _that I have friends!"_

 _They both shared a knowing smile that only they could decipher as they both stepped into the exam room._

 _True to his word, Doc Hawk joined them a few minutes later. MacGyver was sitting up on the exam table, with Jack leaning back against a nearby wall._

" _So, MacGyver," Hawkenbury began, "where does it hurt."_

" _Actually, Doc, I'm fine – " he broke off when he felt Jack's warning glare boring into him, and sighed. "Ribs and back," he revealed. "And my head's pounding."_

" _Hmmm," the doctor murmured, pulling out his pen light and shining it into Mac's left eye, then moving to his right. "Did you take any hits to the head?"_

" _One or two," Mac said, happy that this part of the exam gave him an excuse to avoid any and all eye contact with his partner after that particular admission. "Maybe three, I'm not really sure."_

" _You might have a mild concussion," Hawkenbury told him. "Can you take off your shirt for me, please?"_

 _After a brief hesitation, MacGyver did as requested. The gasp from the other side of the room had him chancing a glance at Jack. The other agent didn't need to say a word because the fire in his gaze spoke volumes._

 _Doc Hawk whistled as he gazed at the colourful bruises across Mac's torso. "And you're not feeling any pain?" he asked disbelievingly._

" _MacGyver here is really good at compartmentalizing, Doc," Jack said, although his voice was filled with anything but admiration. "He's feelin' pain all right; he just hides it real well."_

" _Wow, Jack, you weren't kidding when you said this kid's strong as iron!" Hawkenbury exclaimed, pulling out his notepad to write up a prescription._

 _Mac's surprised eyes found Jack but before he could say anything, Jack interjected, "That's not meant as a compliment in this instance, bud."_

 _Proving that he was in fact a genius, MacGyver's mouth snapped shut and he averted his gaze, wisely remaining silent for the rest of the examination. He even offered up no protest when Hawkenbury handed him the prescription for pain killers._

Present Day

After a quick lunch, Jack and MacGyver were back on the road, with Mac in the front passenger seat and Sparky in the back. Tin Man offered occasional commentary along the way but was otherwise silent.

Jack, on the other hand, was belting out his favourite country songs like there was no tomorrow. Mac tried to turn up the volume on the stereo, but Jack only sang that much louder. Like he was _trying_ to drive him nuts or something.

With a sigh, MacGyver did his best to tune his friend out as he replayed his nightmare over and over in his mind. It was the same nightmare he'd had when Frankie had been presumed dead. He'd only had it that once… until recently.

Immediately after his jaunt pretending to be a sociopathic serial killer, the dream had begun again. And since then, it had not only increased in frequency, but images of Murdoc had been thrown into the mix.

It just didn't make sense. Frankie was fine; Jack was fine; Murdoc was being moved to solitary confinement. So, why was Mac still having a nightmare about his college crush being burned alive and his best friend being swallowed up by the earth, with Murdoc laughing evilly in the background?

MacGyver didn't notice the sudden quiet in the car until Jack spoke. "What's goin' on in that overachievin' head of yours, compadre?"

"What?"

"Well, clearly your brain is refusin' to go along with our impromptu vacation road trip, so you might as well share what you can't stop thinkin' about."

MacGyver grinned despite himself. Leave it to Jack to put Mac's needs ahead of his own. But Mac couldn't tell him about his nightmare. Not yet, anyway. It just seemed silly at this point. So, he chose a half-truth to share, instead. Because the nightmare wasn't the only thing bothering him, and the other was a much easier topic of conversation.

"I'm just thinking about my dad."

"Yeah? What about him?"

Mac brushed imaginary dust off the GTO's console. So much for easier. "I just… what if I do find him? What do I say?"

"You mean, other than 'why'd you abandon me when I needed you the most'?" Jack asked, not able to pull any punches when it came to MacGyver's old man. His gaze flicked back and forth between Mac and the road, uncertain if he'd just made things worse or not. He was relieved when a soft smile curved his friend's lips.

"Yeah," Mac said. "Other than that. You're the one who told me I should forgive him."

"A little bit," Jack corrected him. "I said, you should forgive him 'a little bit'. And, I said that _you_ should. I never said anything about whether or not I'd be forgivin' him anytime soon."

"What do you have to forgive him for?" Mac laughed. "You've never even met him."

Jack's expression turned incredulous. Shaking his head with disbelief, he reached out to turn the music back on. Just before clicking the dial, he said, "For hurtin' you." Then the music was on, Jack was singing along, and Mac was saved from having to come up with a response to his friend's heartfelt words.

Instead, he slipped his dark sunglasses onto his face like the genius he was, so that he could hide the sudden and unexpected tears in his eyes – which, of course, he blamed on the sand blowing around in the breeze.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Okay, I couldn't resist! I'm on my way to bed, but the awesome reviews made me want to share some more of the story! :-) I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as the last two! Again, extra special thanks to Gib and Ridley C. James for their amazing input and suggestions! :-D ~Kelcor

 **CHAPTER THREE**

 _One Week Earlier_

 _MacGyver opened the door to his house and stepped inside, turning slightly to see Jack studying the front door from the car. Mac opened his mouth to call out to him, and ask if he was coming inside. But before he could, Jack put the car in reverse and made his way back down the driveway. Mac tried to tell himself that his partner being angry didn't bother him. But he couldn't completely ignore the knot that had been forming in his gut ever since revealing the bruises across his stomach, chest, and back._

 _He closed the front door behind him and slipped off his shoes. He called Riley to find out how Bozer was doing, and was disheartened to discover that he had still not woken up. Deciding to go to the hospital to hold silent vigil with Riley, he headed down the hall to take a shower._

 _As he stripped out of his clothes, he caught sight of himself in the mirror and fully understood Jack's shock during his examination – even though not much time had passed since the altercation with the mercs, the bruises were already vibrant against his pale skin._

 _Still, he couldn't understand why Jack was so mad at him. It wasn't like it was the first time Mac had downplayed an injury. In fact, he'd pretty much turned that skill into an art. But the fire in Jack's eyes, the silence for the entire car ride home, the even quieter departure; what else could that possibly be but a slowly brewing anger?_

 _With a sigh, Mac turned the shower on and stepped under the hot spray, hoping to relieve at least some of the aches and pains of the previous 12 hours before making the trek to the hospital. Part of him regretted not filling the prescription Hawkenbury had given him, but the pills would knock him out – and he just couldn't handle being stuck in the nightmare that had recently returned to haunt him._

 _Seeing Jack and Frankie die over and over again was bad enough, but to have Murdoc making a cameo appearance all of a sudden just elevated the nightmare to a whole new level of weird and creepy. He knew the sociopath's appearance in his dreams had something to do with his visits to the prison, visits no one else knew about—not even Jack._

 _Sometimes, Mac felt like the male version of Clarice Starling, with Murdoc being his own personal Hannibal Lecter. He just couldn't stop himself from digging deeper and deeper into the sociopath's psyche. Their latest private conversations, however, had been even more disturbing than usual, and Mac couldn't quite figure out why._

 _It'd all started with the mission in Amsterdam when he and the team had been disavowed by Phoenix and left to their own devices—along with a slick move by Matty—to prove themselves innocent of terrorism. Both Mac and Jack had felt like they'd been kicked in the teeth all over again as evidence seemed to prove Patricia Thornton had been behind the whole debacle, arranging for their demise long before her arrest._

 _That mission had reignited Mac's need to know more! How could he trust his instincts, knowing that he'd been so wrong about his boss? The only true kind of closure he could ever hope to get was to know why Thornton had turned in the first place. Maybe then he could put the whole thing to rest and not feel like he's been sucker punched every time some new duplicity of Thornton's is brought to light. Which was why he'd started meeting with Murdoc outside of the purview of the Phoenix Foundation. Because he needed to know!_

 _He considered talking to Jack about it; Jack's perspective always shed new light on the issues that truly stumped Mac. Because as much as Mac surpassed his partner in traditional education, Jack Dalton knew more about the 'human condition' than Mac could ever hope to learn. Jack was right—Mac was a cerebral guy._

 _Still, he just couldn't bring himself to have that conversation. The last time he'd discussed Murdoc with his partner, Mac had nearly fallen apart at the seams; not to mention, waking up in his bed with no memory of making the trip from living room to bedroom._

 _The implications of that had left MacGyver feeling humiliated. Because not only had Jack clearly carried him to bed—which held its own ingredients for mortification—but Mac had brought the situation on himself. For the first time in years, he had turned to the bottle in a desperate need to forget. Only this time what he wanted to forget had been his foray into the psychosis of a serial killer._

 _Jack had shown up just in time to talk Mac off that proverbial ledge that night. And, ever since, he'd been watching Mac even more closely than usual. Mac appreciated the concern, he really did, but he didn't want Jack to worry about him. He was fine._

 _Hence, Mac's decision that it would be best to keep the nightmare to himself. And much better to deal with the pain of a few bruises than to get stuck in said nightmare with no way to pull himself out._

 _Not really wanting to turn off the water just yet, but concerned that he may be turning into a prune, MacGyver ended his shower and stepped out into the comparatively cool bathroom. Wincing with every movement, he pulled on a pair of boxers, blue jeans and a tee shirt, then headed out to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice._

 _On his way, he detoured into his bedroom and swiped his head phones off the dresser so he could plug them into his phone and drown out all thoughts of Jack, and Frankie, and Murdoc, with some of his favourite music._

 _Opening the fridge, he was dismayed to discover the orange juice wasn't on the top shelf where he and Bozer usually kept it. Apparently, his roommate had needed to make room for some leftovers and the OJ was moved to the bottom. Not to be outdone by the innerworkings and design of his own refrigerator, Mac grit his teeth against the pain and bent down to retrieve the OJ._

 _Smiling with a sense of accomplishment, he closed the refrigerator, then turned to get a glass from the cupboard—another seemingly insurmountable task when one has bruised ribs but he did it, anyway. He filled the glass with orange juice but as he lifted it to his mouth, he felt a hand on his shoulder!_

 _Mac spun around and pulled his fist back, ready to defend himself. The orange juice fell out of his hand, spilling all over the floor; the glass rolled unbroken to the other side of the kitchen. Then Mac saw Jack staring at him in surprise. He breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his fist, taking his headphones out of his ears in the same movement._

" _Jack! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" he exclaimed, moving to lean against the kitchen counter. Unfortunately, his bare feet chose that moment to land in the puddle of OJ. He pinwheeled his arms, trying to catch himself, but knew that the law of physics would have him slamming into the counter in a matter of seconds._

 _However, he failed to figure Jack Dalton's quick reflexes into his equation. His partner tossed whatever he had in his hand onto the table behind him, even as his arm whipped out around Mac's waist and hauled him forward, changing his momentum so that he crashed into Jack's chest instead of the kitchen counter._

 _Even with the softer landing, though, Mac still had the wind knocked out of him. And the need to struggle to catch his breath only added to the pain in his ribs. His vision blurred the longer he was unable to pull oxygen into his lungs._

 _As he clung to consciousness, he also clung desperately to the words being repeated into his ear—"Breathe, kiddo. C'mon, breathe with me."_

 _He tried to do as he was told. He registered the chest expanding in front of him and did his best to mimic the speed at which Jack's lungs expanded and contracted._

 _Breathe in… breathe out… It seemed weird being taught how to breathe but seemed to be working and, after a few tries, Mac was finally able to pull in enough oxygen that the black edges around his vision started to recede._

 _As all his senses returned, he found himself held snugly against his partner. One large hand was pressed against the back of his head, stroking his hair soothingly, rhythmically; while his other arm was wrapped around Mac's back—strategically placed directly between the two largest bruises, as if Jack had somehow memorized the exact position of each bruise in the short time he'd had to study them._

" _You okay?" Jack asked._

" _Yeah, I'm good," MacGyver replied, pulling away gingerly._

 _Jack kept a good hold of him until he was sitting at the kitchen table, then disappeared down the hall for something. Mac took the moment of privacy to wipe away the involuntary tears that had seeped out. By the time Jack returned and handed him a towel, he was fully in control again._

" _I'm sorry, man," Jack said, his tone as sincere as MacGyver had ever heard it. "I thought you heard me come in and were just pretending to ignore me."_

 _Unable to bend forward to dry his feet, Mac tossed the towel to the floor and simply placed his feet on top of it, allowing the cloth to soak up the OJ on its own. He absently heard the refrigerator door open, and Jack puttering around in the kitchen. "What are you even doing here?" he asked, unable to hide the exhaustion in his voice._

 _Jack cleaned up the mess on the kitchen floor, then placed a fresh glass of orange juice on the table in front of Mac, earning a small smile of gratitude in return. A smile that disappeared as soon as he placed the prescription bottle next to the glass._

" _I thought you were mad at me," Mac said accusingly, exhaustion replaced with a much safer irritation. He blatantly ignored the pills and OJ, locking eyes with his friend._

" _Mad at you?" Jack repeated, crouching down in front of him. "Dude, I wasn't mad. In all honesty, I was hurt."_

" _Hurt?" MacGyver was so surprised by Jack's admission, he didn't even notice as his friend used the towel to finish drying off his feet for him._

" _Yeah, man. I mean, every time I think I've earned your trust, you go an' prove me wrong."_

" _Jack, I do trust you. More than I trust anyone. I trust you with my life. Isn't that enough?"_

 _The responding smile was sincere but it also held within it a sadness that Mac couldn't quite identify. What had he said that could have hurt his friend so badly?_

" _I guess it's gonna have to be," Jack said softly._

 _He waited for Mac to take his medication, then got up to leave. "Wait," Mac said, surprising even himself when he realized he didn't want Jack to go. "Don't you want to watch some Netflix with me? I'll even agree to a Die Hard marathon," he added with a grin._

 _Jack smiled again but the grief was still lurking in the shadows. "Nah, man, you need your sleep."_

" _Please?" Mac asked, realizing that he didn't want him to leave until he could figure out how to get the happy-go-lucky Jack back again._

 _A moment passed as Jack considered the plea, and Mac found himself standing and taking a step towards his friend, fearing that whatever he'd done was irreparable. Then Jack looked up. His grin was closer to his trademark but Mac was fairly certain that was solely for his benefit._

" _Okay," Jack said. "But only if we start at the beginning."_

 _Mac breathed a sigh of relief. "Is there anywhere else to start?"_

PRESENT DAY

Jack was right about the desert. For two hours straight, all Mac had seen was cacti, rocks, and lizards. The roof was up now to prevent sun stroke and, as Jack had put it, to keep Mac's sensitive skin from getting burnt—to which Mac had responded by lobbing a potato chip at Jack's head. Jack, of course, ate the chip and the two shared a good laugh.

Mac didn't know what he'd been thinking, intending to head out on this road trip on his own.

"So, where do you wanna start, brother?"

MacGyver turned away from the scenery to study Jack. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we're lookin' for your dad. Any ideas where to begin the search?"

"Oh, sorry, I thought I told you. I actually asked Riley to do some digging."

Jack did a double take, flicking his eyes from the road to Mac and back again. "Really? When?"

"This morning before we left."

"After what happened during the assault on Phoenix, I figured Riley of all people could use a good distraction."

Jack nodded silently in agreement, his mind travelling back to a week previous when he'd delivered his Dallas Cowboys snuggie to her at the hospital. "Good idea. I'm proud of you, bud."

Mac appeared honestly perplexed. "For what?"

"Well, I just know how concerned you were about letting anyone else know about what happened in that interrogation room with Murdoc, and you put all that aside just to make Riley feel better."

"She's more than proven herself as trustworthy," Mac shrugged. "And she's a good friend."

"That she is," Jack agreed whole heartedly. "Any word yet?"

MacGyver started to say 'no' when his phone suddenly rang. He looked at the Caller ID – Riley. He held up the phone for Jack to see the screen.

"I swear, sometimes I think that kid is psychic."

"Scientifically speaking—" Mac began.

"There's no such thing, yeah, I know, I know."

Mac chuckled softly, loving the fact that his banter with Jack always got his mind off the serious stuff—like finding his dad—or, at the very least, made it easier to deal with. He tapped his screen to answer the call. "Hey, Riley, did you find anything?"

"Yeah, I did, actually. Apparently, you and Jack are going in the right direction after all."

"See, I told ya' Vegas was on the way!" Jack said, slapping MacGyver playfully on the arm.

Mac rolled his eyes but returned his focus to the phone. "What do you mean, Riley?"

"Your dad lives in Vegas."

"Since when?" Mac asked, more disappointed than surprised.

"Just moved there a week before Christmas. It seems he won a house in some kind of lottery. He was living in a rundown one-bedroom apartment in Eugene, Oregon before that."

After getting the street address, MacGyver thanked Riley and disconnected the call.

He'd last seen his dad about three years earlier, shortly after he and Jack had first returned from their tours in Afghanistan. MacGyver senior had apparently been a little down on his luck, so to speak, and had lost all his money placing bets with a less than reputable bookie in Miami. He asked to 'borrow' ten-grand from Mac to keep said bookie from breaking his kneecaps.

It hadn't been the first time this had happened so, having a bit of money tucked away, MacGyver had agreed to bail his dad out one final time. But there was one condition. His dad had to accept a bus ticket to Serenity, Montana—a town with little temptation for gambling, prostitutes, or any other bad habit he'd developed since the passing of Mac's mom—along with five thousand dollars worth of start-up cash.

The day he'd returned stateside, Mac had purchased a tiny cabin in the small town of Serenity with the intention of moving there to get away from, well, people, and closer to nature. But Jack had put a crimp in that plan when he convinced Mac to accept a job with DXS, instead. So, Mac signed the deed over to his father—figuratively signing away and washing his hands of any sort of relationship with his dad at the same time. Which was probably why the man hadn't left any kind of forwarding address before leaving Serenity.

His father's second disappearance from his life and the events over the past year had started him reconsidering that decision, thinking that maybe he'd acted hastily. Now, with his dad living in Vegas of all places, in a house he'd 'won', brought all those nagging doubts back to the forefront of Mac's mind.

By all intents and purposes, Mac was essentially an orphan. What if this trip was all just a farce? An attempt to prove to himself that he wasn't completely alone in the world? Maybe he should have trusted his instincts after all and just accepted the situation for what it was—a loss.

Jack studied him for a few long moments as they continued along the final stretch of highway towards the City of Lights. "You ready for this, brother?"

It was as if his friend had figured out how to read his mind; or, more specifically, maybe he'd just learned how to read _him._ It took another minute for Mac to answer as he was reminded that family isn't just blood. Over the past six years, Jack had somehow managed to take on the role of best friend, big brother, and—although Mac would never admit it aloud—father. All rolled into one former Delta Commando.

"I pretty much have to be, don't I?" he finally asked, trying not to sound as scared as he felt. "I mean, finding my dad is the whole reason for this trip."

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure you didn't expect to find him this quick, or to be so close when you did. I'm just sayin', we can put it off for a bit. If you want to."

Again, Mac hesitated, so Jack saved him from having to answer. "You know what? I'd really like to find us a hotel room, maybe grab some supper, put in a bit of Karaoke."

"Jack—" MacGyver started, knowing full-well that Jack was trying to protect him… but not entirely sure that he didn't want him to this time.

"No, really, I hear Las Vegas is the 'Karaoke Capital of the World'!"

"I think that's the 'Entertainment Capital of the World'," Mac advised as he returned his gaze to the desert beyond.

"Same thing," Jack returned loftily, trying to lighten a suddenly heavy mood even while casting a worried glance at his partner. "Would you mind terribly if we held off until morning for the reunion with your dad?"

"Uh, no," Mac agreed, once again happy for the sunglasses so he could avoid eye contact. "If that's what you want to do." How Jack was able to read him so well, MacGyver had no idea – but, wow, was he ever thankful for it!

"Sparky," Jack tossed over his shoulder, "what's the most popular Karaoke bar in Vegas?"

Then again…

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N Wow! Thank you all for the wonderful reviews on this story! You have no idea how much each and every review means to me! :-) I hope you enjoy the fourth installment as much as the previous three! Next chapter should be up by Sunday! :-) And, once again, thank you to Gib and Ridley C. James for their invaluable input and advice! :-)_

 **CHAPTER FOUR**

The plan was for them to have a suite, allowing each to have their own room. Which was Mac's idea for the simple fact that for the past seven nights in a row he'd been surging awake in the middle of the night, terrified. Not exactly an image he wanted to portray, even to his best friend.

But apparently there was a big conference in town and the only thing available in the first hotel they stopped at was a single room with two king size beds. Absolutely no walls separating them to drown out Mac, should he wake with a shout in the middle of the night. To suggest they try another hotel would be to raise a lot of red flags for Jack, so MacGyver kept his mouth shut. Deciding to take extra measures to ensure he didn't have any nightmares that night.

So, he had a drink with dinner. Then another three while Jack sang _Piano Man_ at some place called Dino's Lounge. Finally, Mac tossed back a couple shots of Tequila as Jack followed up the classic Billy Joel song with the tried and true _Sweet Caroline_.

Oddly enough, Jack ended up developing a fan base with those two songs and was asked to do an encore. Mac didn't even know they did that with Karaoke. Before that thought was even out of his brain, Jack was pulling him up on stage to join him in a really horrible rendition of _Achy Breaky Heart_ by Billy Ray Cyrus.

After that, things got a little bit… fuzzy.

* * *

Jack draped MacGyver's arm across his shoulders and half dragged, half carried him through the lobby to the elevators, doing his best to not make too much of a spectacle of the poor kid. It wasn't until after the lobby that the trip became a bit more eventful.

Slumped against the wall of the elevator, Mac started murmuring something. Jack leaned down to hear him better but it didn't help—the murmurs were not only soft but also slurred. "What's that, brother?"

Mac's head shot up, startled, not even realizing his thoughts had made their way out of his mouth in the first place. Regrettably, the sharp movement made him sway a bit to the side as the confines of the elevator spun around him.

Jack splayed one hand across the slim chest and collarbone, pressing MacGyver firmly against the wall until he looked slightly more balanced. Then, he tried again. "You were saying something?" he smiled down at the slumped figure.

The kid peered up at him, as if trying to figure out if he was a dream or reality. Or perhaps simply trying to narrow multiple blurred 'Jacks' into one. "I'm sorry," he whispered, finally.

That was the last of Mac's energy, though. Before Jack could ask what the heck the kid was sorry for, he started to crumple to the floor. Jack acted quickly. He grabbed MacGyver by the wrist and pulled him forward, then bent down to drape the blond over his shoulders in one smooth movement.

When the ding signified they'd reached their floor, Jack was relieved to find the hotel hallway empty. It'd mean less mortification for Mac in the morning if no one was lookin' at him funny—not that anyone would. They were in Vegas, for pity sake.

As Jack exited the elevator with his precious cargo, he could vaguely hear the words to _Achy Breaky Heart_ drifting up to him and chuckled softly. Okay, so not passed out yet, just really, really tired. Making his way down the hall, Jack muttered, "This is what happens after, like, three drinks? We need to get more meat on your bones to absorb the alcohol, ya' lightweight."

Laughing at his own joke, he just barely heard the slurred "You're a… light… weight" thrown back at him.

It took some extra skill to get the key card out of his pocket while balancing the kid on his shoulders, but he managed it. Unfortunately, once he got in the room and set Mac down on the floor, the genius who'd gotten himself drunk for the second time in a week for reasons not so far beyond Jack's comprehension, proceeded to vomit all over himself.

"Oops," Mac giggled, and as gross as the situation was, Jack's heart lightened at the sound of that laugh – allowing him to pretend that the kid wasn't almost drowning from the pressure of always feeling the need to keep himself together.

Sparky sat in a chair off to the side – switched off and charging.

Jack got Mac over to the bed furthest from the door, stripped him down to his undershirt and boxers, then tossed the clothes into a loose pile in the bathtub. He turned back in time to see Mac starting to tip backwards across the bed and rushed back over.

"Ah, ah, ah, not yet, brother." He grabbed the slack wrist just in time and pulled him forward, holding him against his chest with one arm as he yanked back the blankets with his free hand.

Cupping the back of Mac's head with one hand, he eased him down onto the mattress on his side, then pulled the blankets up over top of him. With his charge tucked safely into bed, Jack returned to the vomit and cleaned up what he could off the floor. Face scrunched up with disgust, he sprayed a hefty amount of room freshener directly on what was still in the carpet, then left the rest for the room attendant. He made a mental note to provide her with a generous tip upon their departure.

Finally, Jack was able to start getting ready for bed himself. He answered the call of nature, then changed into a pair of pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt. But as he pulled back the blankets of his own bed, he heard Mac start murmuring again. He paused and turned back to him, concerned another nightmare was on the forefront but the blond fell silent once again.

Resolving to ask the kid about these nightmares—not to mention, what he's so sorry about that he had to wait until he was drunk out of his mind to say it—Jack got into bed and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

" _Mac, help me!"_

 _MacGyver spun around in a circle, seeking out the source of the plea which had an odd echo—as if two people were speaking almost simultaneously. "Where are you?"_

 _A small part of him realized that he was dreaming and that it was a dream he was quite familiar with, but he continued to play his role in the dreamscape because to not do everything he could to save his friends would surely drive him to madness._

" _Over here! Help me!"_

 _The echo bounced around him, seeming to come from two different directions. Finally, he saw something in the haze of smoke surrounding him. He couldn't quite make it out but stepped towards it, anyway. Someone he cared about needed help but the voice was too garbled for him to know who._

 _A rumbling thunder sounded in the distance, getting closer by the second. He looked up but saw no dark clouds hovering above him._

" _Mac, please!"_

 _There! It came from behind him and this time, he recognized the voice. It was Frankie! He spun back in that direction, moving at a trot!_

" _Mac, I need your help!"_

 _MacGyver skidded to a halt. "Jack?"_

 _In front of him, the haze turned to smoke and bright yellow and orange flames licked out at him. Amidst the flame, Frankie reached one hand towards him. "Mac, help!"_

 _Horrified, he took a step in her direction. "Mac, bud! I need you, man!"_

 _The thunder increased in volume, seemingly directly overhead now, but still he saw no clouds. Just smoke; reflections of the flames colouring everything around him._

 _Mac spun to look behind him and almost tripped over Jack, stretched out on the ground at his feet. His eyes were closed, his arms crossed over his chest as if… "NOOO!" Jack's eyes snapped open and he fought at an invisible adversary, seemingly holding him in a vise-like grip. His desperate gaze found MacGyver. He shouted at Mac to help him but no voice could be heard! Mac lurched toward him, anyway! He had to get him out!_

 _A deep rumbling beneath his feet knocked MacGyver to the ground. He looked up as a large oak tree grew impossibly fast next to him. Suddenly, the ground opened up and swallowed Jack, leaving behind no proof that he had ever been there in the first place! Mac dropped to his knees, digging frantically at the dirt with his bare hands. "JACK!"_

 _The thunder was all around him now. It even seemed to come from within. Shaking him to his very core. Then he realized the thunder wasn't thunder at all. It was a laugh; a deep belly laugh—a laugh he would recognize until his dying day._

 _Frankie shrieked! Mac spun back around. The flames were devouring her now! "FRANKIE!"_

 _He froze! Who was he supposed to help? He couldn't save both of them!_

" _What are you going to do now, Boy scout?"_

* * *

Jack's eyes snapped open. Usually, his instincts came alive instantly upon waking. However, he'd had a few drinks himself during his latest karaoke soiree, the remnants of which had his mind a little groggy for the first 30 seconds of consciousness.

He knew a noise had woken him, but what? As he took in his surroundings, he listened carefully. Vegas. Mac's dad. Karaoke. Nightmares. There! He heard it again. Mac was murmuring in his sleep again; only this time, the words were frantic. Panicked, even.

Jack threw his covers back and covered the distance between the two beds in record time. "Mac?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the mattress and placing his hand on the kid's shoulder.

But MacGyver remained asleep, head tossing from side to side on the pillow. He kicked and squirmed beneath the blankets. "Jack!"

Hearing his name uttered with such fear and dread made Jack's heart plummet. The nightmare was about him? He turned on the bedside lamp, then shook Mac's shoulder with renewed urgency. "Mac, bud, come on, time to wake up!"

"Frankie!"

"Mac! Wake up, Mac! Come on, man, you're scarin' me here!" Jack patted his cheeks, immediately noticing the dampness. A closer inspection revealed the tracks of tears, some leading down to the pillow, others coming to an end at the jaw and falling away from there.

Finally, MacGyver woke with a shout, jackknifing to a sitting position in the same instant. His gaze found Jack, the blue eyes were filled with terror and pain. "Jack?" he choked.

Hearing the devastation in that one word, Jack couldn't stop himself from hooking one arm around the slender shoulders and pulling him forward to lean against him. He was surprised when Mac's arms immediately encircled him, hands scrabbling for purchase at his back. Sleep had swept away the kid's defenses like a powerful flood.

"You died," Mac sobbed against him.

"I'm right here, bud. Alive and well. An' I'm not goin' anywhere." Jack readjusted his hold, pulling MacGyver closer, anxious to provide whatever comfort he could before the walls were built back up.

A moment later, Mac was struggling against him. Sensing this was something other than pride taking over, Jack released him, then watched as the covers were kicked free and the kid stumbled into the bathroom. He followed, his heart breaking as Mac fell to his knees in front of the toilet and was promptly assaulted with dry heaves. Having vomited up his meagre dinner a few hours earlier, his stomach was now empty of everything but the alcohol.

A pained whimper pulled Jack from the role of observer and straight into father-figure. He grabbed a washcloth from the nearby towel rod, wet it with cold water, then hunkered down next to his young partner. He gently passed the cool cloth over the now fevered face and neck.

The fact that MacGyver didn't fight his ministrations but instead _leaned into_ the touch was testament to the misery the kid was currently feeling. Jack hooked a finger under Mac's chin, urging eye contact. "You done?" he asked softly.

MacGyver wrenched his face from Jack's loose hold as another barrage overtook him. His arms which were braced against the toilet seat started to slip; his knees slid back, away from the base of the toilet.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," Jack muttered. Angling himself to kneel behind his friend, he hooked his arm around the slim waist, then cupped the clammy forehead in his other palm. Another whimper had Jack pressing his chest against MacGyver's back as if he could absorb the pain. "You're okay, kiddo," he murmured. "I gotcha, I gotcha."

After another long pause between dry heave attacks, Jack started to pull Mac way from the toilet but the kid fought him. "Migh' 'appen again," the blond intoned weakly.

"That's what trash cans are for," Jack told him, winning the fight and balancing his friend back against his chest while he passed the cloth over his face and neck again. Next, he manoeuvred MacGyver to his feet and helped him slowly return to his bed. Mac crawled beneath the covers on his own, then curled into a fetal position, cheeks tinged with pink.

Jack pushed the trash can closer to MacGyver's bed, then sat down on the mattress again, hip to hip. It was time they had a chat. "So, what were you dreamin' about?" Silence. "Well, you said my name in the midst of it." Mac made a move to turn onto his other side, which would put his back to Jack. "Hey," Jack said, easily pulling him back to face him. "If I played a starring role, I think I have a right to at least hear the synopsis, bro."

MacGyver folded one arm over his eyes, effectively ending the conversation.

"Fine, how about this… What are you sorry about?"

Okay, random. Mac pulled his arm away from his face and peered up at his friend. "Huh?" Admittedly, not the most intelligent response he'd ever come up with but he had no idea what Jack was talking about.

"You told me in the elevator that you were sorry about something."

Mac blushed as snippets of that elevator ride flashed through his memory; his devastation at hurting Jack a week earlier, collapsing and being folded over said Jack's shoulder to be carried to their room.

"Well?" Jack asked, yanking MacGyver back to the present.

"I, uh, was just sorry for hurting you last week. I don't know what it was that I did, but… I'm sorry."

"When did you…?" Jack canted his head to the side for a moment, then recalled the day Mac was talking about. He hated that the kid had apparently been lamenting over that for the past seven days on top of everything else he was going through. "Mac," he began.

Mac's phone suddenly chirped. Clearly anxious to find an exit from the pending conversation, the kid scrambled off the bed to find his phone. "Where are my jeans?" he asked.

"Oh, sorry," Jack said, jumping to his feet and rushing across to the washroom.

Curious, Mac followed and watched as his friend lifted the vomit-covered jeans out of the bathtub and slipped his hand carefully into each pocket until he found the phone. Mac glanced down at himself as another memory returned—throwing up on his clothes; Jack stripping him down to his boxers and t-shirt.

Believing that his mortification couldn't possibly get any worse, he snatched the phone from his friend's hand.

Knowing what MacGyver was thinking, Jack defended his actions. "What was I supposed to do? Let you sleep in your own vomit?"

"Maybe," Mac mumbled, not really meaning it but not knowing what else to say. He was a grown man and seemed to keep putting himself in situations which required Jack to treat him like a child.

"Never gonna happen, dude," Jack told him firmly.

MacGyver's lips quirked. Despite the embarrassment, it was nice to know someone always had your back. He looked up, locking eyes with his best friend. "Thanks, Jack."

Offering up a sincere smile that he hoped conveyed everything he was thinking but unable to voice, Mac returned his attention to his phone and pushed the button to light up the screen. "It's a text from Matty," he said, as Jack moved to his side to read the cryptic message over his shoulder.

' _I put in for a short leave of absence and will be incommunicado for a while. Please, don't look for me. I'll contact you when I can.'_

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N I ended up finishing the polish on this chapter a bit ahead of schedule, so I figured I'd share it. :-) I hope you all enjoy it! :-D Special thanks to Gib and Ridley C. James for their wonderful input and ideas, inspiring me even further with this story! Also got an idea from Poxelda which will appear in a later chapter - Thanks, Poxelda! You will be given special credit for that line once the chapter is posted... don't want to spoil any of the fun to come! :-D *wink*_

 **CHAPTER FIVE**

MacGyver and Jack were in the car, headed out to the address Riley had given them for Mac's father. Even at this early morning hour, the sun was scorching hot—reflecting off the hood of the car, the buildings on either side, even the pavement surrounding them.

Both men were still feeling the effects of the night before, especially Mac, and were incredibly thankful for their sunglasses. They were also slightly envious of Sparky currently sitting back in the air-conditioned hotel room because Bozer would never forgive them if the robot's wiring melted into copper welded soup in the Las Vegas heat.

The text from Matilda Webber continued to weigh on both their minds as Jack navigated the GTO along the busy streets, traffic proving that even folks living in the 'Entertainment Capital of the World' had to commute to work every morning.

"Matty never takes a leave of absence," Jack said. "She took a three-day vacation once when we were both at Langley, but never a leave of absence. I hope this isn't a sign that she's going to be replaced. I just got her trained to the point where I can work with her again," he added with a wry grin.

"Ohh," Mac teased, "it was _Matty_ who got trained. See, I thought it was the other way around."

There was a tension in their laughter as they tried to hide their concern for their new boss, but Jack got the sense Mac was hiding something else. "Okay, out with it."

"Out with what?"

"Whatever's got you feelin' guilty all of a sudden."

"I'm not—" Mac started, then thought better of it. Jack had a right to know. "I just can't help but think that maybe a change in leadership might not be a bad thing."

"What? You're the one who's been pro-Matty from the day she got here! You even got me to clear the air with her after the Colton job. What gives, brother?"

MacGyver hesitated, rethinking the wisdom of telling Jack about the debrief a month earlier. But the possible ramifications of what Matty was suggesting—or threatening, Mac wasn't entirely sure which was the more accurate term—was something he and Jack both had to prepare for. "Remember my evaluation when she first started with Phoenix?"

"The one where she told you if your improv led to someone getting hurt, you'd have to drop it from your vocabulary?" Jack asked, recalling all too well his irritation when Mac first told him about that particular conversation. He'd wanted to set Matty straight right off the bat, but Mac had convinced him to just let it go, ironically wanting to 'play it by ear'.

Although, Jack was pretty sure the kid was just trying to protect him from Matty's wrath, he'd gone along with the idea to make his young friend happy. For the time being, anyway.

"Yeah," MacGyver continued haltingly. "Well… Matty's thinking about splitting us up."

Jack suddenly slammed on the brakes! Mac braced one hand against the dashboard as he was jolted forward. The sounds of car horns erupted all around them.

"Jeeze, Jack! Are you trying to kill us?"

But Jack had gone into Bulldog-mode, with the figurative bone held firmly between his teeth. "What do you mean she's thinkin' about splitting us up?" Jack demanded. "Who told you that?"

Another motorist honked angrily at them, shaking his fist at Jack as he passed. The look Jack gave the guy in response must've been a doozy because Mac saw the driver's indignation morph into wide-eyed fear before quickly driving away.

"What happened to those multi-tasking skills you're always bragging about, Jack?"

"What?"

MacGyver motioned to the vehicles lined up behind them, others passing on either side. "Do you think we could talk about this while still moving in a forward momentum?"

"Who told you that we're being separated," Jack repeated, but he did shift gears and step on the gas, merging into the flow of traffic once again.

Mac breathed a sigh of relief, waving a brief apology to the drivers behind them.

"Mac?"

"Sorry," MacGyver said, returning his attention to the conversation at hand. "Matty told me."

"When?" The muscle in Jack's jaw pulsed rapidly.

"After the incident in Cordoba." At Jack's blank look, Mac added, "When you broke your arm?"

Jack did a double take. "Yeah, I remember the op, but why would that make her even consider…" A slack-jawed look of disbelief coloured his features as realization dawned. "Okay, first of all, that particular improvisation was _my_ idea. Not yours. Secondly, that was a month ago! What were you thinking, not tellin' me about this?"

"I had a lot on my mind," Mac explained. "It was right before Frankie's funeral—"

"Her premature funeral," Jack corrected, not forgetting that Mac had mumbled _her_ name in the midst of his dream the night before, too. "Incidentally, the nightmare you had last night, was that the same one that was keeping you awake back then?"

This time, it was Mac's turn to do a double take. "Incidentally?" he repeated. "Jack, that would insinuate your question has anything at all to do with the current topic of conversation. Which it doesn't."

"I beg to differ, bud, and you're avoiding the question."

Mac looked down at his phone. "Take the next right," he said flatly, happy that they'd left Sparky back at the hotel, giving him the opportunity to play the part of navigator and maybe distract Jack from the train of thought he was currently chasing.

Jack turned right onto the next street, but glanced at Mac as he did. "You know I'm gonna get it outta you."

"You can try," Mac told him stiffly, a stubborn set to his jaw. After a brief moment, though, he turned pleading blue eyes on his friend. "Just, please… not now?"

"Fair enough," Jack conceded, instantly regretting his mention of the nightmare as he pulled up in front of the house that presumably belonged to Mac's dad. "You ready for this, brother?" he asked gently.

"It's too late to turn back now."

"Never too late, Mac. Hey, why don't we go back to that Karaoke bar—"

"No!" Mac said with a bark of laughter. "Never again, Jack!"

"Awww, don't say that. You might just break my Achy Breaky Heart!"

The wry grin on Jack's face eased some of the pressure that had settled over Mac's chest; which he knew had been the whole point and he was beyond appreciative.

Mac smiled as he opened the passenger side door, but it was forced and didn't quite reach his eyes. That was all it took for Jack to make his decision. He opened his own door, getting out in time to join Mac as he crossed the street. The kid peered over at him.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm coming with you."

"Jack—" MacGyver began.

"I watch your back, remember?"

Mac knew he should feel indignant at the blatant overprotection, but he just couldn't manage anything less than a grateful smile. "Thanks, Jack," he said sincerely, not missing the fact that he'd been saying that a lot lately, and that each time it seemed inadequate.

"Anytime," Jack replied, clapping him on the shoulder and keeping his hand there for support until they got to the front door. He looked at Mac who seemed to be suddenly intent on imitating a statue. "You got this, dude," he said, giving the slender shoulder a quick squeeze before letting go.

As Mac reached up to ring the doorbell, he found he still needed the physical contact and shifted his position slightly so that his arm brushed against Jack's. If his friend minded the closer proximity, he didn't say anything, nor did he pull away.

They must have been seen coming up the walkway because the door opened up almost immediately, and father and son stared at each other for a long moment. Other than a few more wrinkles and a little less hair, Mac's dad looked just the way he remembered.

Jack, on the other hand, was somewhat stunned. He'd pictured James MacGyver to be tall and slim, much like his son—certainly not the barrel-chested man standing before him. That coupled with the almost black hair and dark eyes, was more than enough information to tell Jack that MacGyver had inherited more than just a kind heart and gentle spirit from his mother.

"Angus?" the man asked, tears springing to his eyes.

At first, MacGyver found himself unable to speak; a nudge in the ribs from Jack remedied that, though. "Uh, yeah. H - Hi, Dad," he stammered.

"Smooth," Jack whispered in an effort to lighten Mac's mood a bit. The heatless glare he got from the blond in response told him it worked.

At this little exchange, James MacGyver shifted his gaze to Jack. His disapproval was clear, but there was also a slight hint of surprise in his expression as if he hadn't even seen Jack for the 30 seconds they'd been on the porch. In fact, it was like, when he'd obviously been watching their approach from the window, his attention had been solely focused on Mac the entire time. Jack supposed that was a good thing. It was about time the man treated Mac like his number one priority. But something about Mr. James MacGyver still seemed... off.

"Uh, Dad, this is Jack," MacGyver said by way of introduction. "Jack, this is James MacGyver; my, uh… my dad."

Despite Jack's efforts to convince himself that MacGyver's father was on the up and up, his hackles still rose as he continued to hold eye contact with the other man.

Still, when James stepped to the side to allow them both entry into his home, Jack followed his partner through the door, offering up a forced smile of greeting to Senior, along with a quick handshake. He didn't miss the way James' eyes flicked over to Mac before he accepted the quasi-peace offering, either.

What gave the former Delta Commando pause, however, was the fact that he couldn't tell if the man's interests fell in the realm of making his son happy… or something else entirely.

A few minutes later, MacGyver and Jack were sitting on a comfortable sofa; Mac's father sat in an armchair across from them. Jack's gaze wandered about the room as Mac and his dad talked. There wasn't a whole lot of decor, which was a little weird because Riley said the man had moved into the house before Christmas—usually, eight or nine months would be plenty of time to collect a few knick-knacks. Then again, James could simply be a stereotypical bachelor, choosing to go the way of the minimalist when it came to his interior design options.

One item on the mantel did catch Jack's eye, however. He stood up to get a better look at a photo of James and a boy who could only be a young Mac, standing next to a large lake. Mac was holding a trout in his arms. The fish was almost as long as he was tall. James had a mile-wide grin on his face, his hand resting on the slope of the boy's shoulder and neck; little Mac appeared to be almost tearing up, the smile on his face as forced as the one Jack had seen when he was getting out of the car to meet his father for the first time in over a decade.

"When was this taken?" Jack asked, holding up the photo to show the father and son who were both stumbling over what to say to each other.

MacGyver Sr. got up to join him, taking the photo frame out of Jack's hands with a slight scowl. Jack sat down again, giving Mac a shrug that said ' _Sorry, kid. Just tryin' to make nice.'_ One side of Mac's mouth turned up in a fond smile for Jack, then his curious gaze moved to his father whose own expression had become one of melancholy. "Remember this, Angus? You were, what? Around eight or nine?"

"Actually," Mac said, "that was taken during the fishing trip you treated me to for my eleventh birthday. Almost a year to the day before you dropped me off on Harry's doorstep and never came back," he added. He wasn't sure why he brought up the topic of his dad leaving him with his grandfather on the pretense of going on a business trip; it certainly hadn't been the plan, at least not this soon in the conversation. But he couldn't take it back now.

"Right," James said, clearing his throat awkwardly and placing the photo back on the frame. "So, how did you even find me?" he asked, retaking his seat across from them.

"It wasn't easy," Mac admitted.

"But, luckily, we got ourselves a good friend who can find almost anyone with a few clicks of a mouse," Jack explained.

The other man smiled politely but it was the most insincere smile Jack had ever seen. Mac obviously got his friendly and honest demeanour from his mother, too. The former Delta Commando was trying really hard to like MacGyver Sr. for Mac's sake, but the guy sure wasn't makin' it easy. He glanced over at Mac, trying to see if the kid was getting the same vibe from his dad as Jack was but the blond's expression was inscrutable, even to Jack.

"Do you think we could talk alone, Angus?" James suddenly asked, almost giving Jack a severe case of whiplash as his attention snapped back to him.

Before Mac could respond, Jack said, "He goes by 'MacGyver'; and if you think I'm goin' anywhere, you got another _think_ comin'!"

James rose to his feet. Jack did, too. Both men were now toe-to-toe. _Challenge accepted_ , Jack thought defiantly.

Amazed at the sudden turn of events, Mac jumped to his feet. He placed himself between the two men, facing Jack. "Jack — " he began, beseechingly, one hand splayed out on the other man's chest.

"What? No way," Jack insisted. "I ain't leavin' you alone with him."

"I'm his _father,_ " James protested indignantly. "I would never hurt Angus."

"Oh, yeah," Jack countered, "you certainly proved that when you _left him_ 15 years ago, didn't you!?"

"I didn't have a choice!"

"We _always_ have a choice; you just chose _yourself_ over your _son_! Well, let me tell you, that was _your_ loss, not his!"

Mac had to use all his strength to prevent the two men from coming to blows. He placed his shoulder against Jack's sternum, wrapping his arms around his torso as he propelled him backwards into the entryway. With James now an entire room away from him, Jack calmed somewhat but the fire in his eyes remained. Mac couldn't help but be touched by his partner's loyalty and dedication to him, and he hated that it was probably about to seem like he was taking his father's side over Jack's. "I won't be long," he told Jack softly. "I'll be fine," he promised, knowing that was what his friend really needed to hear.

Jack's gaze moved from Mac to his dad and back again. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud," James said impatiently. "He's a grown man! He told you what he wants— "

"No one asked you, pal!" Jack told him between clenched teeth.

Placing one hand against Jack's chest again, Mac turned to his father. "I got this," he said firmly, while still trying to show the man some respect. He _was_ still his father, after all. Returning his attention to Jack, Mac took him by the arm and led him over to the door. "I need to do this, Jack. _Please._ "

"All right," Jack conceded, albeit hesitantly. Before he left, however, he leaned toward Mac and whispered, "I don't like this guy, Mac. Something doesn't feel right."

"Are your Spidey-senses tingling?" Mac asked, smirking.

"I'm being serious, bud."

"I know," Mac said, realizing his father wasn't the only one he should be respecting—and only one of them had actually _earned_ that respect a thousand times over. "You're worried about me; I get it. And I appreciate it. But this is something I need to face on my own," he added, allowing Jack to see the sincerity in his gaze.

"I'll be right outside."

"Thank you," Mac whispered, sensing his father had joined them in the foyer and not wanting him to be privy to his and Jack's rapport; it suddenly seemed… sacred, somehow. Like, if his dad knew about it, witnessed it firsthand, Mac's relationship with Jack might disappear altogether. It was silly and superstitious, but that didn't make it any less true in Mac's heart. He watched with more than a little regret as Jack sauntered down the walkway, clearly in no rush to leave Mac on his own, and wondered briefly if he'd made the right decision as the tightness slowly returned to his chest.

"Why don't we talk in the kitchen," his father asked from behind him.

"Yeah, sure," Mac agreed after a moment, forcing himself to look away from his friend's retreating back. He turned and followed James down a long hall, which terminated in a generously sized kitchen. On a round table next to the entrance was a glass of milk and a plateful of the one-bite brownies Mac and his mom used to indulge in before she got sick. "I love these," he said, picking two up and popping one into his mouth.

"I know," his father admitted. "But, it's too early for sweets, isn't it? I'll make you some breakfast," he said, turning toward the pantry and retrieving a box of pancake mix. "Do you still like pancakes?"

"I don't think we'll be here long enough for a full meal," Mac told him, picking up another brownie. He tried to dismiss the sudden thought that his dad was trying a little _too_ hard — almost like he was trying to erase their 15 years apart.

"Don't be silly," James said, dismissively. "What's your rush? Commando-boy out there won't melt while you and I eat some breakfast" James said. "I'll even make some of that sweet tea you and your mom used to love. How are you liking the brownies?"

"Mom used to have such a hard time finding these in the stores," Mac remembered wistfully, turning the second brownie over in his hand as his mind drifted back to a much happier time. He popped the sweet, chocolatey goodness into his mouth and followed it up with a gulp of the ice cold milk. The sugar of the brownies seemed to be helping with his hangover.

"They're no easier to find around here, let me tell you," James laughed.

MacGyver set the glass of milk back onto the table and took a bite of a third brownie. As he chewed, he canted his head to the side and watched his father get a box of tea bags out of the cupboard. Something wasn't right… "Wait. You've always hated these brownies; you can't stand pancakes, and you always complained the sweet tea was too sweet. Why did you buy all this stuff?" He watched his father freeze mid-movement and all the pieces began to fall into place. "You knew I was coming," he surmised, thoughtfully. "But how—" Mac's eyes widened as the truth suddenly became painfully clear.

"I'm sorry, Angus," James said, turning around to face him and boldly meeting his gaze. "He doesn't want you. He just wants Dalton."

Mac threw the third, half-eaten brownie to the floor and turned to leave the kitchen. James grabbed him by the arm and tried to hold him back, but MacGyver wrenched free of his grip and raced for the front door. He could see Jack slowly crossing the street. "Jack!" he yelled.

At the sound of Mac's voice, Jack turned back to the house but, even as MacGyver threw the storm door open, a white panel van pulled to a stop between Jack and the GTO. A man Mac didn't recognize opened the side door of the van and hopped out.

"Jack!" MacGyver yelled again, running toward the street. "Behind you!"

But Jack was already turning toward the vehicle, hand on his weapon and ready to draw. The man grabbed him from behind and stuck a needle in his neck! Jack suddenly went rigid, then dropped his gun to the pavement and collapsed into the man's arms. A second later, his limp form was tossed into the van. His assailant jumped in after him, grabbed Jack's cell phone from his pocket and tossed it onto the ground to join the Glock. The door was slammed shut with an ominous clatter & clank just as Mac reached it. He slammed into the side of the van and grabbed for the handle to slide the door open again, but it was locked!

His gaze moved to the side mirror on the driver's side of the van. He tried to identify the driver but whoever it was had the presence of mind to pull the ball cap he was wearing down low on his head.

The van lurched forward, yanking itself out of Mac's grip. "No!" he hollered, lunging for the driver through the open window; pounding on the door, instead, as the van moved out of his reach and sped away from him. Mac chased after it on foot; Jack had the keys to the GTO and it would take too many precious seconds for Mac to hotwire it.

He quickly memorized the license plate number as the distance between him and the van steadily increased. Mac skidded to a stop… and so did his heart. He tried to catch his breath but filling his lungs with oxygen seemed too insurmountable a task at the moment.

He bent over, placing his hands on his knees, gasping desperately for air. He tried to quell the dizziness that he could feel creeping up on him—though, whether it was due to the dehydration and headache caused by his little alcohol splurge the night before, or his childhood panic attacks making a sudden reappearance, Mac couldn't be sure.

James watched his son run after the van. Just like when he had seen Angus approach the house less than an hour earlier, his perspective alternated between the 12-year-old boy he remembered and the 27-year-old man he had become. He supposed such a flashback was a normal occurrence for a man who hadn't seen his boy in 15 years, but the jolt he'd felt when noticing Jack at Angus' side on his porch continued to concern him. Even though the plan had always included Dalton showing up as well, he hadn't even noticed the man before that moment.

He made a mental note to discuss all of that with his therapist, but didn't have time to think about it any further right then because when he saw Mac slide to a halt and bend forward with his hands on his knees, the devastation at the loss of his friend was clear, both in boy and man. James ached to go to him, to offer some form of consolation, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd been raised to keep his emotions under a tight rein, and those instincts ran deep. Ellen had been the only person to find a way to slip past those well-honed defenses, but after she died...

Once steady on his feet, and certain he could speak again, Mac pulled out his cell phone and called Riley. She answered on the second ring.

"Hey, Mac! How's Vegas treating—?"

"Jack's been kidnapped!" MacGyver blurted, abandoning all small talk.

"What? How… why?"

"I don't know that yet," he admitted, glancing back at his father's house. James was standing just inside the door, arms crossed over his broad chest. He stared out at his son, expression ambiguous.

"Well, who took him?"

"I don't know that either!" Mac snapped. "They just drugged him with something and tossed him into the back of a white panel van!"

There was a brief moment of silence at the other end of the line.

"I'm sorry, Riley," Mac said sincerely. "I'm just…"

"It's okay," she told him. "I get it."

And, just like that, they were fine. Mac wished he knew what he'd done to deserve such understanding friends.

"Okay," Riley began, voice shaking with the effort to keep her own emotions in check. "Did you get a plate?"

"Yeah," Mac said. He rattled off the license plate number as he made his way back to the GTO.

"I'll run the plate and follow the GPS on Jack's phone," the computer hacker promised.

Mac looked down at the gun and cell phone on the pavement at his feet. "Don't bother with GPS," he told her, picking up both items. "They tossed his cell phone before they took him," he explained as he slipped the phone into his pocket and tucked the gun beneath his waistband at the small of his back. The weapon felt foreign there; wrong. But it was Jack's and he'd want it back, so MacGyver was determined to keep it safe for him until he could get his partner back safe and sound. Besides, the weight of it also made Mac feel like Jack was still watching his back.

"Anything else?" Riley inquired. "Any signs or logos on the van?"

"No—wait, yes!" MacGyver replayed the scene slowly in his head. In his mind's eye, he could see the ball cap again. "The driver was wearing a hat, the logo on the front was a knight's mask and shield. Kind of like the mask Russell Crowe wore in Gladiator." There was a soft gasp on the other end of the line. "Riley? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Riley assured him. "I'm, uh, I'm good. Do you really think the hat could be a clue?"

"I don't know. But we don't have much else to go on."

"Good point," the computer hacker conceded. Then: "We'll find him, Mac."

"We have to," MacGyver agreed. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned to see his father was now standing on the lawn… watching him.

"Hey, Riley? I gotta go," Mac said into the phone. "Call me when you have something, okay?" He disconnected the call without waiting for her response and stalked toward his father.

The indisputable spark of fury in his son's eyes as he crossed the yard surprised James and had him raising his hands in supplication. "Angus, I—" the rest of his statement was lost in the right hook that caught him in the jaw and had him stumbling back a few steps!

Mac shook the pain out of his hand—but, man, did that feel good!

"They were going to take my house," James protested, rubbing ruefully at his jaw as he began his well-practiced explanation.

"Oh, you mean the house you _won_!?" Mac demanded, blinking back another wave of dizziness. It had been years since he'd had a panic attack, but somehow he still knew this vertigo felt… different. "Let me guess, you cheated in some high stakes game and now they're coming after you, right?" He paused for a moment, bringing one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, and suddenly remembered something his father had said earlier. "Wait. You said 'he' before; not 'they'. You know who did this? Who, Dad? Who took Jack?"

James drew himself up to full height again. He would not be spoken to like this! After all, if a man doesn't have the respect of his own son, then what kind of man was he? "If I tell you that, he'll kill us both," he declared haughtily.

"But you're okay with this guy killing—" Mac stumbled forward a step. What was happening? "You're okay with… with him… killing Jack… in… instead?" MacGyver tried really hard to sound angry but his energy was failing fast.

James stepped forward, bracing a hand on either of Angus' shoulders. Once again, the 27-year-old man morphed into the 12-year-old boy of yesteryear.

Mac made a valiant attempt to pull away from the hold, only to stumble again, this time falling straight into his father's outstretched arms. He peered up into the ambiguous face from his past, trying desperately to remain standing. "Wha'… What'd you do?" The effort it took to say those four little words was astronomical. He watched as his father glanced to the left, then to the right.

Certain that no one was watching, James leaned down and scooped MacGyver up into his arms. "I'm sorry, son," he said simply, carrying Mac up the porch steps and back into the house.

Abruptly flashing back to three years earlier when Jack had carried him from the control van to the exfil chopper in their escape from the Cairo debacle, Mac was able to mumble one single word – "J'ck…", then his head fell onto his father's shoulder as consciousness threatened to completely abandon him.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N_ _Tomorrow is going to be a busy day for me, so I decided to post this today instead. Thank you all for the AMAZING reviews! You all inspire me to be a better writer! :-D Special thanks to Gib and Ridley C. James for all of your wonderful input and suggestions for this story! :-D I made some last minute (small) changes just before posting, so please let me know if you notice an error/typo. And I apologize in advance if you do! ~Kelcor_

 _A/N 2 Next chapter should be posted by Wednesday. :-)_

 **CHAPTER SIX**

James MacGyver slowly pulled the t-shirt over his son's head, unfastened the jeans and eased them off. As he tossed the clothing onto the floor, he felt like he had been transported back in time, then he was suddenly back in the present and the all-too-familiar feelings of guilt threatened to consume him.

His therapist would tell him that he should face up to the guilt, but he didn't have time for that.

He had to protect his son, no matter what the cost. If James had been there for the past 15 years, instead of allowing the all-encompassing grief at losing Ellen consume him and push him into the tiny bubble he currently called his life, he and Angus would never have found themselves in this position.

His barely conscious son mumbled incoherently, sounding young and innocent… vulnerable. And, once again, James' mind flashed back to when Angus was 12-years-old… only this time, he wasn't able to come back from the memory. He stared down at his son, saw the heavy-lidded blue eyes of his little boy gazing up at him with only a vague awareness, and the past 15 years dissolved as if they had never happened.

A small part of James recognized that something inside him had broken, similar to when Ellen had died. Back then, he had sought out therapy because he'd wanted to be fixed so that he could return to his son, but that level of healing had never occurred. Although his therapist kept telling him that he was close, he'd stopped believing her years ago, finally accepting the fact that he would likely never see his boy again.

But all that changed when this opportunity for a reunion had basically fallen into his lap. This time, he didn't _want_ to be fixed; he didn't _want_ to return to his real world— because that world didn't include his precious Angus.

Which was why he continued to tuck the blankets around the small frame he saw on the bed, and then pulled his son forward and sat in behind him. Gathering him into his arms, he slipped one hand beneath Angus' knees and adjusted him so that he could cradle him on his lap.

He'd always longed to do this, but he'd had no such experience to draw on and fought the instinctual need to protect and nurture the same way his own father had ignored those instincts with him… now, he was being given the chance to right the wrongs of the past and he latched onto it for all he was worth.

No longer coherent of the fact that his mind had taken him over a decade into the past, he carded his hand through the blond hair, kissing the slightly fevered temple, holding his son close and never wanting to let go!

"Shhh," he whispered when a distressed Angus murmured weakly, trying to pull away from the hold. "It's okay. Daddy's got you."

Riley typed frantically into her laptop, fighting to bottle up her emotions while she attempted to track the white van using various traffic and highway cams in the Las Vegas area. It took a few minutes, but she finally found the van and followed it through a couple checkpoints before the footage disappeared from her monitors; someone else was hacking into the cams, trying to block her access! As she battled it out with a hacker who seemed to have skills to rival her own, Riley heard Jack's voice in the back of her mind - _C'mon, Ri, just boopity-boop it!_ She smirked. As much as that man annoyed her, she still loved him! He really was the closest thing she'd ever had to a father and they were just now starting to get to know each other again. She couldn't lose him now. She just _couldn't._

As she clicked mouse and keys, her mind drifted back to the first night in Bozer's hospital room after the Organization's attack on Phoenix.

 _ONE WEEK EARLIER_

 _Riley sat at Bozer's bedside, praying that he'd just open his eyes already. The doctors told her that it was going to be touch and go but the next 48 hours were most critical. She smirked as she remembered their amazement that their patient was even still alive after losing so much blood. Apparently, Bozer was stronger than everyone gave him credit for—even her, she thought critically._

" _C'mon, Bozer," she said, gripping his hand tightly through the bed rail. "You just agreed to be my friend, like, a week ago. You can't leave me now. True friends are hard to come by," she added with a sad smile._

 _BANG!_

 _The sound of the car backfiring on the street outside Bozer's room had Riley flashing back to the Phoenix server room! She'd fought him with all her might, using all the moves she'd learned from both Thornton and Jack, but nothing seemed to work; he kept getting the upper hand. She scrambled forward on her belly, reaching for the gun, but felt herself yanked back by her ankles!_

" _I'm gonna try real hard not to take offense to that."_

 _The computer hacker snapped back to the present and wiped hastily at her damp cheeks before turning to see Jack standing in the doorway to the room. "Huh?" she asked, grimacing slightly at her less than articulate response._

 _At her continued look of confusion, Jack's concern increased as he reminded her gently, "You just said 'good friends are hard to come by', and I said that I'm gonna try real hard not to take offense."_

 _Seeing the worry on his face, she forced a grin and cleared her throat. "Don't try too hard, old man," she quipped. "You might hurt yourself."_

 _Riley found a bit of sincerity leaking into her grin. Despite her current mood, she was happy that she and Jack now had a banter that didn't rip open old wounds._

" _You're a funny girl," Jack countered as he sauntered into the room, the smile on his face small but true. "My plan was to come here to talk you into going home to get some rest," he started, raising a hand to stop the protest that came to her lips. "But I knew that wasn't gonna work." He held up a bag for her to see. "So, I did the next best thing. I brought 'home' to you."_

 _Riley's head canted to the side in silent question. Home?_

" _Well,_ _my_ _home," Jack clarified as he freed the contents from the bag and shook out the Dallas Cowboys snuggy that Mac had given him for Christmas. "So, maybe, the next-next best thing. Anyway," he added, dismissing the clarification because it was making his head hurt, "I figure, this way, you've got both me and Mac here for you even when we can't be here in person."_

" _Thanks," Riley said softly, accepting the snuggy and feeling her suppressed emotions welling up inside._

" _And that's not all," Jack added excitedly, pulling a DVD from the bottom of the bag. "Matty made sure that Bozer got all the trimmings with this room, so I figured we could pop this here movie into the DVD player and watch it together. You know, get our minds off everything that's happened."_

 _Riley gazed at the DVD cover—The Gladiator. One of her favourites. "Maybe later?" she requested, not wanting to hurt Jack's feelings but also not able to watch anything with blood and violence just yet._

" _Right," Jack replied, chagrined. "Sorry. Probably not the best genre, considering."_

 _She reached out and grabbed Jack's hand firmly. "It's the thought that counts," she told him sincerely, before looking towards the door. "Where's Mac?"_

" _Oh, you know Mac, he was upset that he didn't have a gift for Bozer to wake up to," he explained with a shrug. "I told him he should make something, and he got that 'look' in his eyes. Last I saw him, he was buying a few rolls of duct tape from the janitor." He jutted his chin towards Bozer. "How's he doin'?"_

" _The doctors say the next 48 hours are critical."_

" _Well, 24 now," Jack corrected her, gentling his voice like he used to when she was a little girl._

" _It's been a day already?"_

" _Yes, ma'am," he said, taking the snuggy from her hands and wrapping it over her shoulders._

 _A scent caught her attention and she pulled the fabric up closer to her nose._

" _Sorry," Jack winced. "I didn't have time to wash it first."_

" _Ewww," Riley said, because that's what was expected. Still, she breathed in deep through her nose, flashing back to her and Jack playing video games together when she was little; the rare occasions that she let him read her a story and tuck her into bed, as she pretended to only tolerate his presence while secretly loving the attention. "Thanks, Jack," she whispered, her voice breaking on his name._

" _How about you? Are you okay?"_

" _Of course," she said, unable to meet his eyes for fear that he'd see that she was lying through her teeth. Suddenly, the backs of his fingers were brushing at her cheek; the pad of his thumb caught a stray tear that had pierced her well-erected barriers without her even noticing._

" _C'mere," was all he said before pulling her into his arms, snuggy and all._

 _She tried to hold back the remaining tears, she really did, but the memories from the server room came flooding back again—BANG! She felt Jack's hand come up to cup the back of her head, fingers sifting through her hair, his other arm still wrapped firmly around her back. And that was all it took for Riley to feel safe again. The tears streamed down her cheeks and her shoulders shook with sobs. Jack didn't even shush her. He just pulled her closer, as if sensing that she needed this release in order to heal._

 _Maybe Jack was smarter than everyone gave him credit for._

* * *

PRESENT DAY

Mac woke in small increments. His head was pounding like nobody's business, making it difficult to think. He was in a strange bed, blankets covering him up to his chin. The only light in the room came from a small nightlight plugged into the wall between bed and nightstand. Odd.

The room didn't look like any place he'd ever seen before, and he wracked his memory for the suspiciously missing details of how he had gotten there, not to mention where exactly 'there' was.

Things started to come back to him in small snippets. The road trip to find his dad; singing Achy Breaky Heart with Jack on a Vegas Karaoke stage; getting way too drunk… again; Jack draping him over his shoulders for the trip back to the hotel room; Jack comforting him after his nightmare; Jack holding him while he got sick… Jack!

MacGyver jackknifed into a sitting position, almost crashing back to the pillow when he was hit with an acute dizzy spell. But, even as his world tilted on the outside, it completely fell apart on the inside as the most recent memories flashed through his mind like a flood worthy of Noah's famed Ark—Jack being shoved into a white panel van; the hat with what appeared to be a knight's helmet as the logo; having an argument with his dad; the dizziness…

Swallowing back the nausea building in his stomach, MacGyver rubbed at his forehead to stave off the headache forming behind his eyes.

Thinking that maybe it had all been just a dream, he glanced about the room for a sign— _any_ sign that Jack had been there. Nothing. Somehow, he knew that Jack wasn't watching his back, even from a distance… which only made Mac all that much certain that Jack being taken was not a dream!

He'd been abandoned in the past, but never by Jack. In fact, his friend had proven to him over and over again that he never would be, and MacGyver could only hope that Jack knew that oath went both ways.

Mac's gaze slowly found the only window in the room, but it was covered by room-darkening blinds, making it impossible for him to know how much time had passed since Jack had been taken. MacGyver's heart rate increased exponentially, causing his vision to blur.

How many hours _had_ passed? What were the chances that Jack was even still alive? And why did Mac feel like he was fighting the worst hangover of his lifetime?

His gaze stuttered upon a framed photo on the bedside table. The glow from the nightlight revealed a nine-year-old Mac sitting between his mom and dad.

The juxtaposition of seeing that picture while in his current predicament was jolting. He slowly looked back at the nightlight and belatedly realized it was the same one his mom had put in his room when he was little. He hadn't seen it since his seventh birthday when his father had declared little Angus was too old to be entertaining the ridiculous idea of monsters hiding beneath his bed.

More memories popped up from MacGyver's subconscious—the milk and brownies; his father's utter lack of surprise at his son's dizzy spell, then being carried into the house like he was still the little boy who'd been left behind all those years ago… Then, all the pieces of the puzzle grudgingly fell into place.

His own father had drugged him?! Which meant James was involved in Jack's kidnapping! But, that was crazy, wasn't it? What could his dad possibly have against Jack? What did he have to gain?

Mac glanced at the photo again and abruptly realized that _he_ was the reward his dad wanted. It was the only scenario that made sense. A hard knot formed amidst the worsening nausea in his stomach.

Mentally reviewing the events after their arrival at his dad's house, he decided the drugs had to have been in the brownies or the milk… more than likely both, to cover a situation where Mac had refused one or the other.

Not surprising, really. James MacGyver always had been an 'all or nothing' kind of guy. And, judging by the vertigo Mac had experienced just moments earlier, his dad had stayed true to form and gone all out with whatever drug he'd seen fit to slip him because it was still wreaking havoc on his system!

When a shiver yanked Mac out of his internal musings, he first thought the chill came only from within, then he lifted the blankets—and saw that he was wearing nothing but his boxers!

That was just _wonderful_! For the second time in less than 24 hours, Mac had been stripped down to his shorts while he was unconscious! At least, the night before, it had been Jack. Because, despite his mortification, deep down he'd known his friend was just trying to take care of him.

But this time, even though it had apparently been his father, it was just… creepy. The man had theoretically changed his diapers—though, Mac suspected that had been more often a task his mother took care of—but he hadn't seen him in years. Father or not, he was practically a stranger!

Mac glanced about the room but was unable to see his clothes anywhere in sight. He had to get out of there and save Jack, and the first step towards that goal was finding his clothes! And, hopefully, his phone!

He stood up, balancing himself with one hand against the nearest wall and wobbled over to the closet at the other side of the room. Before he could open it, he heard a key inserted into the lock on the bedroom door.

He'd forgotten the man's near-obsessive need to have a key for every lock in the house.

All their years apart had allowed MacGyver to remember only the good stuff—trips to the playground; picnics with both his mom and his dad; horseback riding at the farm just outside of town. But then his mom died and everything changed.

Forcing himself back to the here and now, he backed away from the door, hating the feeling of trepidation coursing through him when his father came into the room carrying a tray of food. The fact that Mac was currently in just his boxers made him feel that much more vulnerable.

"What's going on? Why am I here?" he demanded, swallowing his deep-seated fear of his father with dogged determination.

"I'm trying to keep you safe. If you're here, you're safe."

"Where are my clothes?"

"I made you something to eat," James said.

"Where. Are. My. Clothes." Mac's voice became dangerously lethal.

"You promise not to go after this _friend_ of yours, and I'll give you your clothes."

 _Not a chance,_ Mac thought to himself. Aloud, he said, "Sure. I promise."

James watched him a moment, head canted slightly to the side, seeming to calculate his trustworthiness. MacGyver wanted to laugh at the irony but kept his expression neutral.

"You're still a horrible liar, Angus," his father said casually.

"I go by 'Mac', now," the blond growled in response.

"Your mother and I named you ' _Angus_ '. _That's_ the name on your birth certificate. _That_ is what you will go by from now on."

The fact that his father seemed to be planning to keep him here for the long term, only served to up the ante on the creep-factor. But Mac didn't have time to think about that.

He quickly decided to pick his battles and tried another tac for the truly important one. Forcing a pleading tone into his voice, he said, "Dad, I need to find Jack. Whoever took him could be dangerous; he could end up dead. You do get that, right?"

"Better him than you."

"What?"

"Jack Dalton is not my concern," James shrugged, setting the tray of food down on the nightstand. "You are." He reached out for him, but Mac flinched away from his touch. Seemingly unaffected by his son's revulsion, James stood back to study him again. "I'm so happy to have you home with me again, Angus."

"You're the one who left," MacGyver challenged, feeling his strength ebb. He locked his knees, no way was he going to show weakness around this man ever again! "This has never been my home."

"Home is where the heart is," James said with an annoying calm.

"If that's true, my home is with Jack; not with you."

James stared at him for a long moment, then turned to leave. "Eat your supper, Angus," he said simply as if Mac should follow his orders without question.

Mac's gaze moved to the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and the tall glass of milk next to it. "Are those drugged, too?" he asked angrily.

"Of course not." James spun back to face him and had the gall to look offended at the accusation. "Why can't you understand? I only did all this to protect you, Angus!"

"Yeah, at the expense of my best friend," Mac accused.

"Why? Why would you want to sacrifice yourself for the likes of him?"

MacGyver's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. "Excuse me?" he demanded, gaze toxic now.

"I know his type," James told him loftily.

"His type?" Mac bit out. "You have _no idea_ the kind of man Jack Dalton is!"

"That's where you're wrong," James said, puffing his chest out like a proud peacock. "I could tell plenty just by looking at him! He's not too bright, is he? Probably shoots first and asks questions later? You're better off without that kind of role model."

MacGyver's responding laugh was without humour. "And, what? I should look up to a man who abandons his 12-year-old son; then drugs him 15 years later and keeps him prisoner on the pretense of keeping him _safe?"_

"Trust me, you'll thank me for this someday."

"You really are delusional, aren't you?" The question was posed in such a matter-of-fact tone, it almost wasn't a question at all.

James turned to leave once again.

"You can't keep me here!" MacGyver insisted.

"Let me know when you're finished eating your supper, son."

"Son?" Mac growled, wanting more than anything to pummel this guy into the ground, even at the risk of another dizzy spell. "Don't you _dare_ call me that! You have no _right_ to call me that!"

"I have _every right_!" James exclaimed, whirling back around, eyes flashing with anger. "I'm your father!"

"Jack Dalton has been more of a father to me than you have _ever_ been! And he is _ten times_ the role model you could ever _hope_ to be!" Mac swiped tears of rage from his eyes before they could escape, not wanting his father to misconstrue them as weakness. If anything, the tears fueled the fury raging inside him in that moment. "Whatever deal you made wasn't to protect me! You made it for yourself; so that you could tell yourself that you did it for me, like that makes you a _hero_ or something! Well, Jack is the only hero in this story, Dad! Not you; Jack!" MacGyver stared at his father, whom he had missed so badly for close to 15 years now, and chastised himself for allowing his nostalgia to blind him to the man's true intentions.

Regardless, Mac was satisfied to realize his words had finally hit home. He supposed the stricken look on the other man's face should have made him feel bad… but it really didn't.

He saw the flicker of emotion a split second too late, as the back of James' hand caught him full in the face! All the helplessness Mac had felt as a child came soaring back to the surface. Well, he was not a little boy anymore.

He lunged toward his father, but his reflexes were still not a hundred percent and he was quickly overpowered as the barrel-chested man twisted him around and wrapped his arms around him from behind. Mac kicked and struggled but the drugs still coursing through his system made his efforts fruitless.

His legs gave out on him as the room began to spin and the nausea threatened to rear its ugly head. Mac felt James take all of his weight in his arms, and he wanted nothing more than to push the man's hands away—unfortunately, he was having a difficult time getting any of his limbs to follow commands at that moment.

James practically carried him back across the room and eased him down onto the bed. He left the room for a moment, and Mac eyed the open door longingly. He tried to get up off the bed, intending to finally execute his escape but, instead, collapsed to the floor! Frustrated with his lack of strength, he stubbornly bit back the sob pushing for release.

His dad sauntered back into the room. He stopped and stared down at Mac for a moment, hands on his hips. That, combined with the look of disdain in his eyes, reminded Mac of the many times that he had been disappointed that his son didn't make it onto one of his school's many sports teams.

Mac watched him set something down on the nightstand, then tried to shrink away but could do nothing as James scooped him into his arms for the second time that day and deposited him back onto the bed. MacGyver squeezed his eyes shut, ashamed to feel the hot tears track down his face.

Why didn't he listen to Jack? He _should_ have listened to Jack!

He was yanked back to the here and now when something was pressed down over his mouth and nose. His eyes snapped open. The sickeningly sweet smell from the white cloth beneath his father's hand brought bile to Mac's throat as he tried with all his might to get away, but already the little strength he had remaining was rapidly dissipating.

As darkness began to encroach on Mac's vision, James pushed one hand through his hair in a fatherly gesture that the blond had spent years longing for, but which now made him want to puke. "You need to rest, Angus," his father told him gently, finally lifting the cloth away from his face.

Even at the ripe old age of 27… Mac seriously wanted to bite him. But all he could do was lay there as darkness overtook him. He vaguely felt his father lift one of his wrists just before all awareness left him.

* * *

The next time Mac woke, he was surprised to find one wrist handcuffed to the bedpost. At first, he was confused but the drug-induced fog in his brain faded more quickly this time around, and memory of the day's events promptly returned. He stared silently at the closed door for a moment, wondering how he and James MacGyver could possibly share any DNA, then started searching for a way to escape.

His gaze found the tray of food. Unfortunately, James had had the presence of mind to make a meal that didn't require any cutlery—then again, he'd never been a great cook when Mac was a kid, that duty had always been left to his mom; and, later, his Grandpa Harry. Maybe that was just another thing about his father that hadn't changed.

Just when he was about to dismiss anything on the nightstand as being remotely useful, his gaze found the framed photo again. He quickly snagged the frame with his free hand. His eyes locked on the image of his mother for a brief second, then he flipped it over. On the backing was a metal attachment, allowing the picture to be hung on the wall if desired.

Mac didn't much care where the photo was kept; he just wanted the small piece of metal located inside the hinge mechanism on the back. Ironically, it was only a bit thicker than a paperclip… and almost as flexible.

Making quick work of the lock on the handcuffs, Mac stood—and then his butt promptly smacked back onto the mattress as another wave of vertigo threatened to render him unconscious again. This was really starting to get on his nerves.

He stood up from the bed. Very slowly this time. It took much longer than he would have liked, and he figured getting dressed would be even less fun. He tried the bedroom door, unsurprised to find it locked, then moved over to the closet. Inside, he discovered a single straight-backed chair, presumably used to access the attic above. Quickly dismissing that route as a dead end, he instead grabbed the chair and braced it beneath the knob of the bedroom door.

It wouldn't stand up to too much effort, but it would at least give him a bit more warning if his father decided to come back before Mac was ready. Returning to the closet, he retrieved his clothes, along with his Swiss Army knife, the two cell phones—Jack's and his own—and Jack's gun! Clearly, his father had not expected Mac to be able to free himself from the cuffs—and, clearly, he did not know his son. At all.

Mac turned his phone on to call for help but there was no signal for some reason; same with Jack's phone. Mac couldn't remember if that was the case when he and Jack had first arrived, but his memory was still fuzzy, at best; only picking out the most important things, leaving the rest for estimates and guesswork for the time being.

After easing into his clothes with all the speed of a ninety-year-old man on too many painkillers, MacGyver once again slipped the gun beneath the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back, pocketed the two cell phones and headed for the window he had zeroed in on the first time he'd regained consciousness. He was not looking forward to that climb, praying he wouldn't get dizzy and sprain his ankle when landing on the other side. The last thing he needed was something else to slow him down.

As an afterthought, he returned slowly to the bed. Opening the frame, he tore one-third of the photo off, gently folded the picture of himself and his mom and placed it into his wallet, then tossed the image of his father back onto the bed, next to the now separated frame.

Not missing the thematic statement in that action, Mac returned to the window. He had a best friend to find! He yanked the blind clean off the window—only to find it had been painted shut.

Mac slammed his fist against the wall! _NO!_

His panic increased as he gazed up at the steadily darkening sky. He and Jack had arrived early that morning, and it now appeared to be late afternoon, at least! Possible even early evening. Either way, several hours had passed since Jack was tossed into the back of that van! There might still be time to find him, but _only_ if Mac could get out of this homemade prison.

"Come on, Mac," he muttered to himself. "You can do this. You've gotten out of tighter situations in the past." He did his best to ignore the part of his brain that saw fit to remind him how he usually had Jack covering his six while he got out of those particular situations.

Suddenly, the door behind him shook in its frame! "Angus!"

He'd been so lost in his thoughts, he must have missed the click of the key in the lock. Knowing it was his own stupidity in hitting the wall that had drawn his father's attention, MacGyver's gaze danced about the room, looking for anything he could use as a weapon. But there was nothing.

The door shook again, harder this time. The chair rattled against it. "ANGUS JAMES MACGYVER! OPEN THIS DOOR NOW!"

Mac jumped a bit. How was it that the use of your full name continued to hold so much power, no matter how old you were?

Upon first inspection, the room had seemed like any other. But, now, he saw that it was oddly bare. Other than the bed, the nightstand, the photo, and the chair he'd found in the closet, there was nothing else – no desk, no dresser, not even a mirror.

The last Mac was happy about because he did _not_ want the haunted and fearful look that was surely in his eyes right now to be staring back at him through his reflection.

Revisiting his earlier analysis of his predicament, he realized that maybe his dad had merely underestimated the usefulness of the picture frame. He likely had left the photo of happier times as a kind of psychological warfare more than anything else.

Which would mean, his dad knew him after all. Mac had always been an extremely bright kid, but he hadn't really thrown himself into his DIY experimental projects until after his father had walked out on him. He'd needed something to block out the pain of abandonment, the loneliness, the feelings of inadequacy—and his schoolwork, his experiments, his _brain_ , had offered a perfect sanctuary.

So, how was it possible that his dad knew about his skills and talents 15 years later?

Not willing to take the little time he had left to examine the implications the answer to that question might reveal, Mac tried harder to think of another route of escape, but his mind wasn't operating at full capacity right then.

The room continued to spin languidly around him like he was on a Tilt-a-Whirl that was slowly coming to a stop. And he prayed it _would_ stop soon because he didn't know how much more he could take before the nausea took over completely.

He moved as fast as he could to the only two pieces of furniture in the room. There had to be _something_ he could use. He desperately yanked open the drawers of the nightstand. Empty. The bed was a different story; he tried but was too weak and exhausted to lift the box spring and mattress out of the way.

He extracted his Swiss Army knife from his pocket, as his gaze returned to the nightstand—the tracks the drawer rolled on could prove useful, but he didn't have time to detach them. The knife itself could feasibly be used as a weapon, but that would require Mac to be in close proximity to his father, and his limbs had already shown him that they couldn't be trusted in hand-to-hand combat in his current state.

"ANGUS!"

This time his father's voice, although still filled with rage, was further away. Likely getting something to use to knock the door down. _Apparently, several tools were available to_ _him_ _,_ Mac thought scathingly.

Soon there was a soft scraping noise at the door. Mac recognized the sound and wracked his brain trying desperately to decipher it… a screwdriver!

A few seconds later, the doorknob fell off, bouncing off the wood of the chair before hitting the floor and rolling up to MacGyver's feet. The door itself was instantly swung open with force, slamming the chair back against the wall with a loud THUD. Mac suddenly felt like he was 12 years old again, having his father come home to find he had done something wrong and flying into a blind rage.

His father barged into the room and made a beeline for him. "You need to learn to do as your told!"

MacGyver took a hesitant step back, legs still wobbling a bit beneath his weight.

James' gaze locked onto the picture frame on the bed, then the torn photo. He abruptly changed direction, picking the photo up and turning his eyes back to MacGyver — the dark orbs flashed with something other than anger now. Pain. Devastation. "What did you do?" he whispered so softly that Mac could barely hear him.

"I-I'm…" Mac was about to apologize but then realized he had to squash down the terrified little boy inside and stand up to his father like he'd never been able to as a child. "I'm going to find Jack now," he said resolutely, using his anger at what his father did to Jack to fuel the fire.

The rage returned to his father's eyes. "Like hell you are!" he exclaimed, starting for Mac again.

In that moment, MacGyver found himself wondering, ' _What would Jack do?'_ Feeling the cold metal at the small of his back, he knew _exactly_ what Jack would do. Reaching behind him, he pulled out Jack's Glock and took an almost-steady aim at his father. "Don't come any closer," he said sternly.

James jolted to a stop. "We both know you're not going to use that, Angus! You hate guns."

Seriously, how the heck did his dad know so much about him? "My best friend—the only person who has _always_ been there for me no matter what—could be dead because of you! There's no telling what I might do!"

That seemed to at least give his father pause; until his dark eyes took in Mac's slightly wavering hand. "You can't even hold it steady," he said.

Mac shrugged, feeling like some of Jack's cocky attitude had leaked into him through the gun. "See, the thing is, I just want to _wound_ you, but the way my hand is shaking, I might actually _kill_ you by accident."

He felt the cool mask of indifference slip into place, just like when he'd been impersonating Murdoc a couple weeks earlier; judging by the doubt in his father's gaze, he saw the change, too.

"Or you'll just shoot the wall."

"Do you really want to take that chance?" Mac asked, glancing at the handcuffs hanging from the bedpost. Not waiting for a response, he motioned with the gun for his dad to move over to the bed. "Attach the cuffs to your wrist."

"Angus—"

"Do it!"

James slowly did as he was told.

"Now, toss me the key," MacGyver ordered, holding out his hand.

Scowling, his father reached into one pants pocket and threw the key ring over to his son. Mac placed the key on the floor, just barely out of reach. He didn't want the man to starve to death; he only wanted to give himself enough time to escape so he could find Jack.

With his dad no longer an immediate threat, Mac replaced the gun to the space at the small of his back, then walked the short distance to the door, which felt like several miles to his weak legs.

"Angus, please," James begged.

The new pleading tone brought Mac up short, causing him to lock eyes with his father.

"He'll kill you. I know, he will."

"Who, Dad?!" MacGyver demanded once again, hopeful that maybe, just maybe he could get through to his father this time. "Who took Jack?"

Instead of answering, James continued as if Mac hadn't spoken at all. "Please, just stay here until this is all over. Then, I promise, I won't try to stop you from leaving. _Please._ I just don't want you to die, son. I'm begging you. Stay with me."

MacGyver's eyes, usually blue like the sky on a bright summer day, became more like ice reflecting that same sky off the smooth surface of a long-frozen lake. "That's what's different about you and me, Dad. I don't leave the people I care about behind."

Without another word, he backed out of the room, unable to completely block out the pain his words inflicted in his father's gaze, but not allowing that to stop him from starting his search for Jack.

James MacGyver had lost any chance he might have had at being at the top of his son's list of priorities—that spot was reserved solely for Jack.

Still, Mac had been telling the truth, he didn't want his father dead. Which was why, as soon as he rescued Jack—and he _would_ rescue Jack — he would do everything he could to ensure his father got all the professional help he needed.

* * *

Mac tossed the gun and both cell phones onto the passenger seat of the GTO. He finally managed to hotwire the car—taking longer than usual because his fingers were numb and tingly—and sped away from James MacGyver's house. He had no idea where he was going. Just that _he had to find_ _Jack_!

He'd only driven a few miles when his body suddenly started shaking, and darkness began to encroach on his vision once again. The car swerved under the control of his tremoring hands. A loud horn alerted him to his pending headlong collision with a large semi.

Mac yanked the wheel hard to the right but overcompensated and the GTO headed straight for the shoulder of the road—and the ravine below! He wrenched the wheel to the left, and ended up back in the middle of the road, with horns honking all around him!

Finally, he managed to straighten the vehicle and pulled over to the shoulder, breaths coming in short gasps, sweat dripping down the sides of his face. He gripped the steering wheel tightly in both hands. Pressing his forehead against his knuckles, he tried desperately to control his breathing.

Despite his efforts, the darkness continued to close in. No! He didn't have time for this. _Jack_ didn't have time for this! But his body didn't seem to care about time, or best friends, right then; only that it needed to shut down for a while.

So, very much against his will, MacGyver lost consciousness and tipped to the side across the seat, not even noticing when his topple resulted in the gear shift ramming into his side hard enough to leave what was sure to be an impressive-looking bruise.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N So much for me posting twice a week! lol You guys are quite persuasive with your reviews! Here is the next installment... I hope it stands up to your expectations! :-) My usual beta-readers/editors are incommunicado for the time being. This one was edited a week or so ago, but I had to make a few small changes to fit with the new scenes before and after. I did read it over myself but, as we all know, it's easy to miss stuff that way! As usual, please let me know if anything doesn't work, etc. ~Kelcor :-D_

 **CHAPTER SEVEN**

 _"Mac, help me!"_

 _MacGyver spun around in a circle, seeking out the source of the plea which had an odd echo – as if two people were speaking almost simultaneously. Instinctually, he knew they were both people he loved dearly, he just couldn't figure out who. "Where are you?"_

 _A small part of him realized he was dreaming, and that it was a dream he was quite familiar with, but he continued to play his role in the dreamscape because to not do everything he could to save his friends would surely drive him to madness._

" _Over here! Help me!"_

 _The echo bounced around him, seeming to come from two different directions. Finally, he saw something in the surrounding haze of smoke. He couldn't quite make it out but stepped towards it, anyway. Someone he cared about needed help._

 _A rumbling thunder sounded in the distance, getting closer by the second. He looked up but saw no dark clouds hovering above him._

" _Mac, please!"_

 _There! It came from behind him and this time, he recognized the voice. It was Frankie! He spun back in that direction, moving at a trot!_

" _Mac, I need your help!"_

 _MacGyver skidded to a halt. "Jack?"_

 _In front of Mac, the haze turned to smoke and bright yellow and orange flames licked out at him. Amidst the flame, Frankie reached one hand towards him. "Mac, help!"_

 _Horrified, he took a step in her direction. He froze as Jack's voice again pierced his subconscious: "Mac, bud! I need you, man!"_

 _The thunder increased in volume, seemingly directly overhead now, but still he saw no clouds. Just orange-tinged smoke; reflections of the flames colouring everything around him._

 _Mac spun to look behind him and almost tripped over Jack, stretched out on the ground at his feet. His eyes were closed, his arms crossed over his chest as if he were lying in a coffin… "NOOO!"_

 _Jack's eyes snapped open and he fought at an invisible adversary, seemingly holding him in a vise-like grip. His desperate gaze found MacGyver. He shouted at Mac to help him but no voice could be heard! Mac lurched toward him! He had to get him out!_

 _A deep rumbling beneath his feet knocked MacGyver to the ground. He looked up as a large oak tree grew impossibly fast next to him. Suddenly, the ground opened up and swallowed Jack, leaving behind no proof that he had ever been there in the first place! Mac dropped to his knees, digging frantically at the dirt with his bare hands. "JACK!"_

 _The thunder was all around him now. It even seemed to come from within. Shaking him to his very core. Then he realized the thunder wasn't thunder at all. It was a laugh; a deep belly laugh – a laugh he would recognize until his dying day._

 _Frankie shrieked! Mac spun back around. The flames were devouring her now! "FRANKIE!"_

 _He froze! Gaze snapping from Frankie to the ground that had swallowed Jack and back again. Who was he supposed to help? He couldn't save them both!_

" _What are you going to do now, Angus?"_

Mac woke with a shout! It took longer than usual for him to get his bearings — basically because his anchor wasn't there. He looked around, eyes wild, breaths coming in quick, short bursts.

His gaze found the rearview mirror and the look in his own eyes frightened him. He hastily wiped at his tear stained cheeks, threw open the door and jumped out of the car. All around him were vast open spaces, which worked just perfectly for him under his current circumstances. He certainly didn't want any witnesses to his seemingly imminent breakdown.

In the previous dreams, the one who'd spoke to him at the end had always been Murdoc. This time, it was his father's voice that he'd heard. Sometimes the subconscious mind could be both confusing and painful!

Feeling like his heart was about to pound straight out of his chest, Mac placed his hands on his knees again, taking slow, deep breaths.

And, if he concentrated _really_ hard, he could imagine Jack's calloused palm resting on the back of his neck.

Heart rate slowing, breaths deepening, Mac took in his surroundings again, only now realizing that the sky was darker. Dismayed, he returned to the GTO, and checked the time on his newly charged phone. It was almost nine o'clock at night—Jack had been gone for close to twelve hours now!

What also caught his attention was the dozen or so missed calls from Riley throughout the day. He slammed the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, then immediately called her back.

He explained to Riley that he was fine but left out his father's duplicitousness because, quite frankly, he was ashamed of himself for not figuring it out sooner; even more so, for not listening to Jack in the first place! All of this could have been avoided if he'd just…

Shoving his feelings of guilt down to be dealt with at another time, Mac forced himself to focus on Riley's voice.

According to the hacker, all the license plate had revealed was that the van had been stolen earlier that day from some guy named Bradley Stonehouse - which seemed to indicate taking Jack was a last-minute plan. Or, at the very least, a poorly executed one. Regardless, the van seemed to have disappeared into thin air!

Even the logo on the kidnapper's ball cap, a lead which Mac's instincts still screamed at him to pursue, had turned out to be for the Vegas Golden Knights - a hockey team born out of a small community called Paradise which was located in Clark County, adjacent to Las Vegas. Riley had done the research on her end, trying to find any other connection between the Vegas Golden Knights and Jack's kidnapping, but hadn't really come up with anything concrete.

Although the population sits at over 200,000, and most of the tourist attractions people come to Vegas to see fall within its boundaries, Paradise is relatively unknown and caught in the shadow of its more popular big sister. Even its zip codes only bring up Las Vegas mailing addresses.

Disconnecting the call with Riley, both of them feeling forlorn and more than a little desperate, Mac needed to take a moment to re-evaluate his situation and figure out his next step. Any trail leading to the white panel van would be cold by now but he needed to do _something—_ both to locate Jack and to get his mind off his own father's involvement.

He had no appetite, and enough time had already been wasted sleeping. Okay, yeah, he'd actually been _unconscious_ both times, which didn't really have the healing power of sleep, but the fact remained—it had been time _wasted_!

After over five hours of searching, he'd still turned up nothing. His eyes were grainy from peering down increasingly darkened alleyways and into shadowy parking lots. He glanced down at the gas gauge, not surprised to see the GTO was basically running on fumes—and so was he!

He continued along East Tropicana as he'd planned, but as he came up to the intersection with Koval, he saw a promise of fuel for both the car and himself. So, just before reaching the intersection, he made a quick right into the Rebel Gas Station.

When other drivers honked their horns incessantly as they passed, he realized belatedly that he'd forgotten to turn on the signal light. He shook his head ruefully; he needed sleep badly. But there was no time for such luxuries—he'd sleep once he found Jack!

Pulling to a stop in front of the gas pumps, he got out and rounded the GTO. He slipped his credit card into the payment slot for the gas pump labelled 'A' and filled the tank, then darted into the store to buy an extra-large coffee with too much sugar—doing whatever he could to force his body to stay awake.

As he stepped out of the store and hurried back to the car, flashing red and blue lights across the street caught his eye… and there it was.

Seemingly abandoned in a mostly empty parking lot across from the MGM Grand, the van was all but hidden in the shadows.

Mac pulled a _Dukes of Hazzard_ and slid across the GTO's hood on his hip, somehow managing to only spill a few drops of coffee in the process. Leaping into the driver's seat, he placed the coffee in the cup holder usually reserved for Jack, then gunned the engine to life and raced across the street to the vacant lot.

Seeing a dark coloured SUV near the main entrance of the lot, he quickly took the next right, which took him into an alleyway that led to the parking lot's alternate entrance at the opposite end. Jumping out of the GTO, Mac peeked around the corner of a nearby building to survey his surroundings.

An officer was currently leaning against the police cruiser, his back to MacGyver. As Mac got closer, he realized the cop was losing his supper. Something he suspected did not bode well for what he was about to discover in the van. A quick internal calculation told him that he was far enough away from the officer to go unnoticed as long as the man remained… preoccupied.

Grimacing slightly at the smell of vomit wafting its way through the gentle breeze, Mac crept over to the abandoned van. All the doors stood wide open, including the sliding door through which his best friend and partner had been tossed over 12 hours earlier.

Mac felt it in his bones that this was the right van, but still confirmed his suspicion before going any farther. With his bleary eyes, and the distance separating him from the van, he couldn't read the license plate from where he was standing.

Pulling out his cell phone, he took a picture of the plate, then used his thumb and forefinger to zoom in on the photo. The letters and numbers matched the plate he'd memorized earlier and, with a final glance at the officer, MacGyver crossed the remaining expanse of pavement to look inside. Jack was clearly gone but there could still be some clues as to his whereabouts. If the police had found him before Mac's arrival, surely Jack would have told them to call his partner.

Unless, the inconceivable had happened…

As if confirming that worst-case scenario, Mac's heart plummeted and his knees became weak when he saw the small pool of a dark coloured liquid on the floor of the van. Shining the light from his phone on the pool only served to confirm his suspicions—blood. Although, it didn't seem enough blood to indicate someone had died there, the foot-wide pool still seemed to be taunting MacGyver at his failure to keep his partner safe like Jack had done for him for so many years..

Suddenly, someone rounded the corner of the van! Mac was so caught of guard, he couldn't breathe for a moment. It was Jack! His friend's lips were moving but the roaring in Mac's ears drowned out the words. Jack was alive!

"Are you okay, kid?" the voice sounded distant, echoed.

MacGyver laughed wetly with relief. But, wait, the eyes looking back at him held no recognition; even the concern was not quite right. As if the brown eyes were staring at a complete stranger.

Mac canted his head to the side, studying the man standing before him. The brown hair was short but not pulled to a peak, as was Jack's personal preference; the face was less weathered, as if 10 years had been shaved off his friend's age. Even the gaze now locked with his, carried less experience within their depths—no tortured memories of Afghanistan, or any of the other countries Jack had fought in either as a soldier or during his time as a spy.

The final piece to the puzzle was the Kevlar vest—Jack hadn't been wearing that when he'd been taken. Plus, the vests given to them by Phoenix—or even DXS or the CIA—never had names on them, as that pretty much negated any effort to conceal their identities. The front of this particular vest bore the words 'CSI' on one pocket flap and 'Stokes' on the other.

Mac's gaze found the blood in the van once again and his short-lived relief was quickly replaced by despair. Of all times for him to discover that Jack had a twin, this was not the most opportune.

The switch in extreme emotions, coupled with the lack of sleep and food—and possibly the final remnants of whatever drug his father had dosed him with still coursing through his system—had MacGyver feeling weak with dread. The world tilted on its axis, the van and not-Jack blurring in and out of focus, and Mac reached out to steady himself against the open back door of the van.

"Whoa!" not-Jack exclaimed, stepping forward to nudge his shoulder beneath Mac's arm while wrapping his own arm around Mac's waist and pulling him close to keep him from collapsing to the ground. He also seemed intent on keeping Mac from touching the van in his desperate attempt to catch himself.

As he was held against the broad chest, one arm loosely draped over the other man's shoulder, Mac fought to get oxygen into his lungs, even as he flashed back to the orange juice incident a week earlier when _his_ Jack had prevented him from slamming down onto the kitchen counter—then his father catching him several hours earlier.

The last memory had Mac suddenly fighting the hold, but the struggles were feeble and he was easily overpowered.

"Take it easy, kid. I'm not gonna hurt you."

He was getting really sick of feeling so fragile; powerless as not-Jack—Stokes?—continued to support his weight until he was able to get past the dizzy spell.

Mac never liked showing weakness in front of his partner, but at least he could trust Jack not to judge him for it … he _hated_ showing any kind of vulnerability in front of anyone else—even Jack's twin—because, in Mac's experience, people tended to err on the side of opportunistic and used Mac's weaknesses against him.

His own father was a prime example of that!

Finally, MacGyver was able to get his feet firmly beneath him and pulled away from the impromptu embrace. Not-Jack was hesitant but once he knew MacGyver wasn't going to collapse again, he stepped away, granting Mac his personal space.

"You okay?" Stokes asked, with an all-too-familiar southern drawl.

"Yeah, sorry," Mac blushed.

"You looked like you saw a ghost there, bud."

Mac's heart clenched at the nickname which, although said with a friendly tone, held none of the usual affection and familiarity that Jack always put into it. He chuckled to hide the despair once again welling up inside him. "I kind of did, to be completely honest."

Stokes watched him, brows raised in typical Jack-fashion as he waited for an explanation. "I'm sorry?"

"Never mind," Mac grinned, trying to make it sincere but knowing he'd failed. He noticed for the first time that Stokes held Jack's gun in one hand, not aiming it per se, but definitely keeping it out of MacGyver's reach.

And the blond couldn't really blame him. He'd likely felt it against the small of Mac's back while keeping him upright and confiscated it for his own protection. However, the fact that Mac had no recollection of the action was disconcerting, to say the least. He pulled out his wallet to show the man his ID, then motioned towards the gun. "May I?"

"What does a think-tank employee need with a gun?"

This time, Mac did feel the wry grin playing on his lips. "CSI. That stands for _Crime Scene Investigation,_ yeah?"

Stokes nodded.

"So, that means you're a scientist."

Another nod, followed by sudden realization of Mac's point as Stokes looked down at the gun holstered at his own hip. "Touché," he responded, handing Jack's Glock over and watching as the blond returned it to nestle at the small of his back.

Suddenly remembering the uniformed officer losing his supper, MacGyver glanced across the parking lot.

Stokes followed his line of sight. "Ah, don't worry about him. Michaels won't be joining us anytime soon," he smirked, before turning back to MacGyver. "In all seriousness, though, would you mind telling me what you're doing at my crime scene, kid?"

Mac shook his head with a discontented sigh—looking young came with its advantages, of course, but part of him really couldn't wait until his face started showing his age. "My partner is missing. He was kidnapped by whoever was driving this van," he added, gaze once again finding the blood on the floor of the van's interior.

Seeming to read MacGyver's mind, Stokes said, "Dog."

"What?"

"We tested the blood and determined that it belongs to a dog. So, unless your partner's a canine…"

Mac breathed a heavy sigh of relief, scrubbing one hand down his face. He felt badly for whatever dog had been used in the cruel joke but was incredibly thankful that it wasn't Jack's blood—there was still a chance Mac would be able to save him.

"How long have you been searching for this partner of yours?"

"Since this morning," Mac said, purposefully leaving out the debacle with his father.

"Well, you look like crap, kid. When was the last time you ate something?"

"Your partner goes missing," MacGyver muttered challengingly, "would _you_ stop for a burger and fries?"

Stokes nodded thoughtfully. "Fair enough."

Those two words made MacGyver's heart clench that much tighter, as he remembered all the times Jack had used the same phrase—the most prominent recollection being while investigating Frankie's apparent murder. The mere memory of Jack's arms wrapped around his shoulders while he pulled himself together that day had embarrassed Mac to no end, but he would take that embarrassment one hundred times over if it meant having Jack Dalton back safe and sound.

"What is it?"

"It's just… with the exception of being about 10 years younger, you're the spitting image of my partner," Mac explained. "Like to the point of being creepy. You even _talk_ like him."

"They do say that everyone has a doppelgänger somewhere in the world; never thought I'd find out about mine being so close in proximity, though."

MacGyver couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, if I'd held any doubt about your true identity, it would definitely be gone now."

"Why's that?"

"He would never have used the word 'doppelgänger' in the proper context."

"Don't you think-tank folk have to be brainiacs or something? What?" he asked when MacGyver grinned again. "It's not a pre-requisite?"

"Let's just say, what Jack lacks in formal education, he more than makes up for with his skills for strategy and tactical training."

Stokes peered at him for a moment, studying him carefully, as if trying to determine his truthfulness; he pivoted and saw the GTO for seemingly the first time. "Your partner's name is Jack?" he asked, turning back to MacGyver.

"Yeah, why?"

"You wouldn't happen to have a picture of him, would you?" Nick asked, needing confirmation of this whole doppelgänger bit before saying anything further.

Confused, Mac extracted his phone from his pocket and pulled up a group-selfie Jack had insisted on taking after the success of a particularly difficult mission in Afghanistan. His gaze moved from the phone's screen to Stokes as the other man's jaw dropped in surprise.

"Jack Dalton?" he said with disbelief. " _Jack Dalton_ is your partner?"

Mac hesitated. If this man ended up actually being Jack's long-lost twin brother, Mac solemnly decided to pinch himself to see if he had fallen into one of Hortence Leadbetter's soap opera induced nightmares. "Yes," he finally confirmed.

Checking his watch, Stokes seemed to make a decision. "My shift ends in about 20 minutes, and I just finished with the photos and sketches for this scene. How about I clock out and then you 'n me go get ourselves a late supper."

"I'm not hungry—" Mac began, hackles rising at the thought of wasting any more time than he already had.

But, in a very Jack-like fashion, Stokes raised a hand to halt any protest. "You won't be any good to Jack if you collapse from exhaustion. Food will give you more energy while we search for him."

"We?" MacGyver asked.

Stokes grinned. "You didn't think I'd let you search for my cousin all on your own, now did you?"


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N Special thanks once again to my beta-readers Ridley C. James and Gib for all their help and suggestions with this story! :-)_

 **CHAPTER EIGHT**

Mac followed in the GTO, while Nick drove the Tahoe to the Crime Lab, then waited outside as the CSI went in to clock out for the night. The whole time he sat there staring at the front door to the lab, MacGyver considered just driving away and finding Jack on his own. He didn't need someone, especially a cop, watching his every move.

It wasn't like he was planning on breaking the law, or anything. But, as a secret agent, he had learned how to _bend_ the rules quite efficiently and that could sometimes still be construed as breaking them, depending on the cop.

But Nick Stokes seemed to have an emotional stake in this case now, too. And he would probably just put an APB out on the GTO if Mac tore out of there on his own, anyway. MacGyver supposed he would just have to hope that Nick had the same ability as Jack when it came to walking the fine line between right and wrong. It was a necessary evil in their line of work, but both of them always strove to stay on the right side of the line—which was just another reason he and Jack made such a great team.

The blond checked his watch. The detour had only taken twenty minutes so far but it seemed like a waste of precious time that could have been spent looking for Jack. Still, two sets of eyes were better than one, and it also didn't hurt to have someone to bounce ideas off of… which was usually Jack's job.

He took another gulp of his now cold coffee—after all, caffeine was caffeine. Whether it was hot or cold, it still had the same desired effect—which was to keep Mac awake long enough to rescue Jack. After that, he didn't much care what happened.

A moment later, the CSI hopped into the front passenger seat of the GTO, causing MacGyver to jump in surprise. One of the downsides of too much caffeine... being high strung. Ignoring Nick's look of concern, Mac put the car in gear and stepped on the gas. But they hadn't been driving ten minutes when Nick insisted yet again that MacGyver eat something.

"Have you always been this thin?" he asked, only partially teasing.

MacGyver rolled his eyes at the very Jack-like statement, trying to hide the fact that the similarities between the two men were simultaneously comforting and painful.

On the one hand, it was like having Jack at his side again. On the other, Mac felt like he was somehow betraying his friend by finding comfort in the doppelgänger's presence. Like, if Jack knew, he might think that he was being replaced or something. It was silly and superstitious and made Jack out to be some needy four-year-old, but Mac just couldn't help it.

"We can't afford to waste any more time," he told the CSI stubbornly. For a very long moment, he could feel Stokes' eyes on him, watching him carefully, but the guy wasn't saying anything. "What?" Mac finally demanded, unable to take the silent scrutiny any longer.

Nick shrugged. "I just can't help but wonder what Jack's response would be if he knew you were disregarding your own well-being while working to save him."

"Fine," Mac capitulated with a sigh, knowing the CSI had a point, and not liking it one bit. "But only if it's take-out. Who knows what Jack is going through right now, or how much time he has left."

* * *

As Mac bit into the cheeseburger that likely was delicious but tasted like cardboard in that moment, he glanced over at the driver's seat. Seeing Nick Stokes driving the GTO just felt… wrong.

To be completely honest, Nick driving Jack's prized possession hadn't been Mac's first choice; it hadn't even been his second. But it was the only choice he had, given the CSI's insistence that MacGyver eat something and Mac's own stubbornness to keep moving. The fact that Nick was a cop made the whole 'eating while driving' option not even up for debate—an argument further hampered by Mac's clear lack of sleep and embarrassing dizzy spell less than an hour earlier.

So, MacGyver had accepted the compromise, albeit under protest, and allowed Nick to take the wheel. And, if the CSI noticed that there were no keys in the ignition, he didn't say anything about it. Considering a typical Crime Scene Investigator's need for attention to detail, Mac figured he'd just understood the necessity to do whatever was needed to get to Jack before…

MacGyver deftly cut off his own thought before it was able to completely form into the emotional minefield of carefully suppressed emotions, forcing himself to instead study the all-too-familiar features of the man sitting next to him.

Acutely aware that he was the one being watched this time, Nick flicked his eyes from the road to Mac and back again. "What?"

"You and Jack are cousins? Seriously? I mean, you look more like twins."

Nick grinned. "We both look like Grandpa Joe. Spittin' image, almost. Man had strong genes, let me tell you."

"Jack's never mentioned you." Mac was somewhat taken aback when it came out as a challenge; not realizing until then how protective he was of his and Jack's friendship.

"Yeah, well, that's not all that surprising. We were close when I was little but then he got deployed and, shortly after that, my parents moved to Dallas. Other than a few letters back and forth while he was overseas, we all kinda lost touch, y'know?" Nick said, doing his best to downplay the letters. He didn't know why Jack hadn't mentioned him but if those letters were anything to go by he was more than likely trying to protect the kid. "I gotta say, though, Jack was more like a big brother to me than a cousin."

"I can relate to that," Mac replied, pulling a paper clip out of his pocket and manipulating the soft metal into a new random shape he hadn't yet decided on.

"With you, I'm pretty sure he's old enough to be your father."

This time, MacGyver kept his silence, not ready to touch that topic with a ten-foot pole.

As an investigator, Nick could read people pretty well, and almost immediately realized his misstep. Time for a distraction. He reached out and flicked the stereo on, happy when one of his favourite songs came blasting through the speakers.

"Oh man," he said, grin a mile wide. "I love this tune!"

He quickly started to sing along, this time oblivious to MacGyver's subtle reactions to the song.

" _It was Christmas in Las Vegas, when the locals take the town; Theresa hit a streak and laid her waitress apron down — "_

Like a bolt of lightning, Mac's arm shot out and turned the radio off. A second later, he was taking a sip of his soda like nothing had happened.

"You got something against Bob Neuwirth, or just country music in general?"

"Jack was singing that on our drive up here," the blond admitted with a shrug, avoiding any and all eye contact with Nick.

"Oh," the CSI said. "Sorry about that."

"No big deal," Mac lied, embarrassed by his reaction but not willing to take it back either.

Nick cleared his throat. "So, when is this computer hacker friend of yours supposed to get back to you?"

"Actually…" MacGyver looked at his watch. "She should have called by now," he muttered, grabbing his phone off the dash. After dialing Riley's number, the ringing came through the car's stereo speakers.

Nick's eyes widened with mild surprise. "This classic has blue-tooth?"

As soon as the call went to voicemail, Mac hung up and dialed again. "Phoenix customized her… much to Jack's dismay, actually."

"Yeah, well, I like technology as much as the next guy but I gotta side with my cousin on this one. Beauties like this GTO should not be messed with."

Mac shrugged, chewing on his lip as Riley's voicemail answered again. "Comes in handy when people are trying to kill us and Jack is driving while I try to put something together to save our lives, _and_ we're having to give a sit-rep to our boss at the same time," he explained to Nick distractedly. Riley never ignored his calls, and would be especially careful to keep her phone close by for any news on Jack.

Nick's brow quirked as he once again flicked his gaze to MacGyver. "People tryin' to kill you? What kind of think-tank do you guys work for, anyway?"

"The kind that's classified," the blond told him cryptically as he dialed another number and hoped fervently that Bozer would have his cell phone with him despite hospital rules and regulations.

"Okay, got it," Nick replied, not taking offense to Mac's newly clipped tone. Something was apparently up, so he opted to keep his silence while the kid tried to figure it out.

Finally, Bozer's voice filtered through the speakers. _"Hello?"_

Mac grit his teeth slightly at the still strained voice of his friend. It hadn't been realistic for him to think Bozer might have completely healed after only eight days in the hospital; didn't stop him from hoping, though. "Hey, Boze, how're you feeling?"

"Mac? Where have you been?"

"Jack and I left for a road trip, remember?" He cut his eyes over to Nick. He trusted the guy for the most part, but he certainly wasn't going to yell from the rooftops that the purpose of his and Jack's road trip was to find his dad; that would just open up a whole other can of worms, and way too many questions that Mac wasn't prepared to answer just yet.

"Oh, right!" Bozer said. "These stupid meds are messin' with my memory, man," he grumbled, a touch of irritation entering into his voice.

"I could always ask the hospital to lower the dosage," Mac teased, striving to achieve a laid-back tone he did not feel for his friend's benefit.

"No, no," Bozer returned a little too quickly. "I'm good."

MacGyver's lips quirked despite the seriousness of the situation. His long-time friend could always be counted on for a little bit of comic relief.

"Have you found your dad yet?" Bozer suddenly asked as his memory apparently returned.

The question was asked with equal parts trepidation and hope, but it made Mac cringe just the same. So much for not yelling it from the rooftops. "Not yet," he revealed, avoiding Nick's eyes for all he was worth and promptly changing the subject. "Have you talked to Riley yet today?" he asked. It was clear that Bozer didn't yet know about Jack's kidnapping, so Mac did his best to tread lightly. No need for his roommate to be worried, too. It wasn't like he'd be able to do anything from his hospital room, anyway.

"Yeah," Bozer responded, the wistful smile obvious even over the phone. "She's on her way here for a visit now. Why?"

"No reason," Mac lied, hating the fact that he was being dishonest with his oldest friend yet again, even if it was to protect him from worrying instead of healing. "Can you just ask her to call me when she gets there?"

"Sure thing, Mac." Bozer may not be a fully trained operative yet but he'd had some of the training, most of it on-the-job, not to mention he'd been MacGyver's friend since they were kids; the fact that he didn't seem to suspect any duplicity on Mac's part spoke volumes about the amount of painkillers swimming through his system. "Wait a minute, what aren't you telling me?" he suddenly asked.

"Nothing, man," MacGyver said, so much for that idea.

"Did something happen to Robot?"

Suppressing a relieved sigh, Mac was quick to reassure him. "Sparky is fine, Bozer." The blond smirked when the new topic of conversation earned a new quizzical glance from Nick.

"Sparky is the name Jack gave him," Bozer objected. "He's _my_ dang robot."

"And here I thought _we_ built him." Mac tried hard to come off as normal, but it was getting more and more difficult by the minute.

"That's exactly my point, Mac. _We_ built him—we should be the ones to _name_ him. Jack don't even _like_ robots!"

Mac grit his teeth, feeling more overprotective than usual of Jack, but quickly took a deep breath. If Bozer knew what was happening, he'd be almost as worried about their fearless protector as Mac was… almost. So, MacGyver forced a genial smile and said, "You're absolutely right. You should totally do that. After we get home. But, for now, I gotta get going. I'll call you later, Boze." Before Bozer could object, Mac disconnected the call with a sigh of relief.

Nick glanced over at him. "People trying to kill you, _and_ you built your own robot? I don't care if it's classified, I need to know what you guys do."

Just as Mac was about to reply, the phone rang. Without checking the Caller ID, Mac rolled his eyes and answered on the first ring. "Bozer, I really can't talk right—" He was completely unprepared for the voice that slithered through the speakers.

"Hello, Boy Scout."

"Murdoc?" Mac's head whipped around, as if perhaps he'd be able to see the serial killer through the dashboard speakers.

"You recognized my voice? I have to tell you, MacGyver, I'm truly touched."

Nick opened his mouth to say something but Mac put a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture. The CSI instinctively trusted the younger man's instincts and, sensing his silence was crucial to his cousin's survival, remained quiet.

MacGyver didn't know why, but something told him if Murdoc knew he wasn't alone, all the rules in this latest twisted game of his would change—and the new rules would not bode well for Jack. He had no idea how Murdoc had gotten out of prison, nor why he and Jack hadn't been informed, but he'd figure out the 'how' and the 'why' of it all later, for now there was just one thing Mac wanted to know. "Where's Jack?" he growled. "So help me, Murdoc, if you hurt him, I'll — "

"Oh, you'll do _what_ , exactly? We both know you're not a killer, MacGyver," Murdoc snapped, his voice holding an edge that Mac had not often detected in their previous conversations. "That's why I call you 'Boy Scout'," he added cheerfully.

MacGyver felt the presence of Jack's gun at the small of his back, and wondered briefly if Murdoc was right; or if he'd be able to take another life in order to save his partner. He would, of course, do everything he possibly could to avoid such an outcome—but he was surprised by his willingness to do whatever it took to save Jack! He kept that little revelation to himself, however. No need to give Murdoc any more of an advantage than he already had.

"Where. Is. Jack." The clipped words, the cold tone; both brought him crashing back to the 12 hours he'd spent masquerading as Murdoc a two weeks earlier.

" _See, that's what we are, MacGyver. We're two sides of the world's immune system. We target people that make society sick, and we stop them."_

"Come now, you didn't really think it would be that easy, did you?" Murdoc taunted. "Pull over to the side of the road, MacGyver."

"Why?" Mac asked, narrowing his eyes against the headache starting to throb deep inside his skull.

"Because I'm sending you a link and I want you to watch it while you're on the phone with me, but I can't have you crash into a tree and die on me. I need you to suffer first; and then I want to kill you myself. You know how it is."

Mac could practically hear the sociopath's shrug as he made brief eye contact with Nick. He nodded for the CSI to comply with Murdoc's wishes and pull over to the shoulder.

"Are you pulling over, MacGyver?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful! Now," Murdoc directed, as Nick slowly veered off the road and pulled to a stop on the gravel shoulder, "a few rules, because there always have to be rules with players like you and me. Rule number one, you are not allowed to hang up; rule number two, you are not allowed to press 'mute'. If you do, I will slit Jack Dalton's throat right here and now. Understood?"

"Yes," Mac bit out again in response.

"Good boy."

MacGyver picked the phone up from its perch on the console and waited for the promised link. As soon as it arrived a moment later, he reached out to open it. Then hesitated. If Murdoc wanted to hear his reaction, whatever was in the link would not be good.

"I'm waiting," Murdoc jeered through the speaker.

With no other choice, Mac tapped the link. A video immediately came up on the screen. His heart filled with dread as he recognized his father's living room. Judging by the angle, Mac discerned the footage was coming from the mantel, a hidden camera planted by Murdoc no doubt. There was video but no sound as James MacGyver came into the room, in the same clothes he'd been wearing when Mac had last seen him. In fact, the bruise forming on his cheek, the split lip, and the late afternoon daylight pouring in through the window told MacGyver this had been recorded just shortly after Mac had escaped his father's homemade prison to find Jack.

James sat down on the sofa. He was as still as a statue at first, to the point that Mac thought the recording had paused. Then there was a minute shake of the shoulders. Momentarily perplexed, MacGyver found himself using thumb and forefinger to zoom in on his father's face. The sight of the tears on the bruised face had him zooming back out almost instantly as his heart constricted. He'd never seen his father cry before, which had actually played a part in Mac's own reluctance to show weakness. Even at his mother's funeral, his father had bottled everything up, not shedding a single tear of grief. Seeing him now made Mac think that perhaps he had simply waited until he was alone. Maybe he'd been too hard on the man?

No. Because, although Mac couldn't say he _hated_ his father, exactly, he also wasn't ready to forgive him. Maybe he never would be. Jack wouldn't be in this position, in danger of dying by Murdoc's hand, if it hadn't been for Mac's father. Not to mention the fact that he'd drugged Mac and tried to hold him prisoner like they were acting out some bad remake of _Misery._

Jack had told Mac to try forgiving his father, but that was before the guy had helped orchestrate Jack's kidnapping. Did that deserve forgiveness? Knowing Jack and his self-sacrificing ways, he would probably say yes… eventually, anyway. But, once Mac told him what happened _after_ the kidnapping, he was certain Jack Dalton would change his tune.

Even as Mac watched the video, though, he wasn't planning on having his father arrested. He still wanted to get him lots and lots of therapy, but he didn't want him to go to prison. Besides, if James hadn't been susceptible to Murdoc's manipulations, the serial killer would have just found another way to get to Mac.

He watched as his father, thinking he was alone, placed his face in his hands and sobbed.

MacGyver could feel Nick's gaze move from the video to him—studying him, trying to figure out what was happening without giving away his presence to Murdoc.

Getting an idea that might just save his father from whatever fate Murdoc planned to force on him, Mac quietly grabbed a pen and paper from the glove compartment and jotted down his father's address. Handing the paper to Nick, he was relieved to see the CSI pick up on the urgency and instantly send out a text to his co-workers, presumably to get the police to the location asap. At least, MacGyver hoped so.

The video clearly wasn't live, but Mac latched onto the prospect that Murdoc may want to draw out his torture, maybe even carry the charade on for a few days. You just never knew with Murdoc, but the guy certainly loved waiting for the strongest dramatic effect possible.

"What's a daddy to do when he finds out a narcissistic sociopath has taken to filling the gap he created in his son's life?" Murdoc offered in his own demented commentary.

Mac's blood ran cold as he turned towards the speakers again. "What?"

"Oh, yes, didn't James let you in on our little secret? I told him all about your damaged relationship with Jack Dalton. How Jack has been teaching you how to follow in his footsteps as a world-renowned assassin; giving you lessons on the moral imperative of a contracted killer."

MacGyver kept his silence, wondering where Murdoc was going with this particular train of thought—and one hundred percent certain that he wanted off the train before the next stop.

He could practically hear Murdoc's casual tilt of the head as he continued. "I may have embellished a little, switched roles with good ol' Jack Dalton for a few minutes. What can I say? I think I was an actor in previous life."

MacGyver returned his attention to the video, just in time to see his father get control of himself again. He couldn't help but replay in his mind all the things he had said to his father; all the things he'd _thought_ about him. When all along, in his own misguided way, James MacGyver really had been trying to protect his son.

Still unaware he was being watched, James wiped his tears away with both hands, then stood to pace over to the window, his back to the camera as he stared out at the street. Then he turned away from the window and stepped over to the mantel.

"Murdoc, what are you going to—"

"Shhhh," Murdoc insisted, as if he were sitting in a movie theater, eating popcorn and drinking soda—and how disturbing was it to think that maybe he was doing just that? "You're gonna miss the best part!"

Another camera snapped into focus, showing James from a different angle as he picked up the photo of himself and Mac on their fishing trip. He stared down at the picture wistfully.

The video suddenly switched to slow motion, igniting a fire of foreboding in MacGyver's gut.

The living room window shattered. "No!" Mac shouted, jolting so hard that his feet thumped heavily against the floorboards of the GTO. Eyes wide with shock, he was able to do nothing but watch helplessly as his father slowly crumpled to the floor. The blood spread across his shirt at an alarming speed, even while in slow motion.

Seconds later, the screen split, showing the two feeds simultaneously. The second camera quickly zoomed in, seemingly on its own, zeroing in on James MacGyver's sightless eyes!

As Murdoc's laughter erupted throughout the vehicle, MacGyver clenched his teeth painfully, biting back the sob that fought for release. He gripped the phone tightly in one hand, the other forming a fist that had his nails digging into his palms. Painfully aware he was under both visual and audible scrutiny, he leaned forward in his seat, crossing his arms over the dash and burying his face into them, striving to shove his emotions down deep where Murdoc would never bear witness!

A calloused palm gripped the back of his neck, and Mac was almost able to pretend that Jack was there with him.

"Focus, MacGyver. Focus." Murdoc's voice slithered through the speakers again. It felt eerily like the vibrato of his words moved straight through the dashboard and directly into Mac's bones, turning the marrow into solid ice. "Let's not forget about dear ol' Jack. I mean, if you react like this because the daddy who abandoned you was killed, how horrible will it be when you lose the one person who has always been there for you, no matter what? Your bridge over troubled water, so to speak. Your one remaining father figure. Will you completely break, MacGyver? Will you dissolve into an inconsolable wreck? Because, I have to tell you, that would be just delicious! One of those endings that make the rest of the movie so worth the sickening Disney feel-good scenes that I've had to endure to get here."

Shrugging off Nick's hand with an appreciative nod, Mac sat back in his seat and took a deep, fortifying breath. He would not let Jack die. It was just _not_ an acceptable outcome. Seeing movement in his peripheral, he turned and saw Nick typing into his phone again. At first glance, the CSI appeared unaffected by what had just transpired—then Mac saw the rapidly pulsing muscle in his new friend's jaw, the sympathy in his gaze when he locked eyes with him.

' _Keep him talking,'_ Nick mouthed, rolling his hand in a continuing motion to back up his words.

Mac scrambled for something to say, the image of his father's death still so vivid in his mind. With a forced calm but still somewhat shaky voice, he finally asked, "Why not text me, Murdoc? Isn't that your usual M.O.?"

"Oh, yes, it is. But you and Matty made this personal when you threatened my son."

"We didn't threaten — "

"So," Murdoc said, talking over MacGyver with ease, "I decided to add my own personal touch to this contract."

Mac latched onto that last word. "Wait. Contract? Someone _hired_ you to kidnap Jack and kill my father?"

"I know. Crazy, isn't it? That someone wants to kill all the people you love almost as much as I do?"

"Who?" MacGyver demanded.

"Tsk, tsk, MacGyver. You know that goes against my Privacy Policy," Murdoc reprimanded. "My clients pay for complete anonymity."

"Just let Jack go and take me, instead!" Mac glanced at Nick and saw the same obstinate ' _that ain't happening'_ look he would have seen on Jack's face, but he didn't care. He would do whatever he had to if it meant getting Jack back alive!

"Why do you care so much, anyway?" Murdoc wondered. "I've always been confused by your friendship. It's like Prince Charming socializing with the town troll."

Mac felt his hackles rise at this scumbag insulting Jack. "I think you've got your character bios mixed up again, Murdoc. See, you're the troll—who will be going back to prison very soon, by the way—while Jack is Sir Lancelot of the Knights of the Round Table."

Murdoc scoffed. "Does that make you King Arthur? I thought you were all about team equality."

"Oh no, I'm not King Arthur," MacGyver replied with false levity. "I'm Merlin. And I've still got plenty of tricks up my sleeve to put you back behind bars where you belong."

The long pause that followed gave Mac a bit of satisfaction, knowing that Murdoc believed the threat for what it was—a promise that MacGyver was bound and determined to keep. Even if it killed him.

"Delusions of grandeur or not," Murdoc finally responded, "the fact remains the same, MacGyver—if you don't find your precious Jack in time, he will be, how shall I say this… up the creek without a Swiss Army Knife?" He laughed, apparently finding his own joke quite humorous. "Any-hoo," he sing-songed. "I'd love to keep chatting—because you are such a wonderful conversationalist—but I must get back to your little Delta Commando friend. And, remember, MacGyver… what is it Jack says? Oh yes; don't try anything hinkey."

"Jack never says—" Before he could finish, Murdoc disconnected the call. Mac instantly turned to Nick, only to get a frown and a shake of the head in answer to his unvoiced question. The trace hadn't worked. MacGyver fought the sudden urge to punch the GTO's dash.

Nick pulled a u-turn in the middle of the two-lane highway and went back the way they'd come.

"What are you doing?" Mac demanded. "We can't just give up!"

"We also can't keep driving aimlessly, waiting for your hacker friend to call," Nick told him. "Now, listen," he added when Mac opened his mouth to object, "I've got some friends of my own that can help us out," he grinned, mischievously—Ecklie was _so_ not gonna like this!

TBC

 _A/N Thoughts? Reviews spur me on and encourage me to post faster... #justsayin' #wink_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N Thank you all so much (again!) for your wonderful, wonderful reviews! What a way to start, endure, and end my day! You guys ROCK! :-D This is my first time trying to capture the voices of the CSI team... I hope it works! And, of course, Special Thanks to Gib and Ridley C. James for their invaluable help! :-D_

 **CHAPTER NINE**

"Nothing useful from ballistics," Nick told his former supervisor, who was studying him from the other side of the desk. "I'm about to check some prints from the van with A.F.I.S. but from what Mac tells me about this guy—"

"You need to follow the evidence, Nick. The second you get too emotional, mistakes get made, evidence gets missed." Gil Grissom gazed up at his protege from his seat, still able to picture when Nick had first joined the team seven years earlier. He'd grown a lot since then, but occasionally had to be reminded to think like a scientist when working on particularly heartbreaking cases. Still, Gil couldn't deny his own curiosity at the young agent's well-being. "How's your new friend?"

Nick glanced over his shoulder, past the specimen jars and shrunken heads, his gaze finding MacGyver sitting in the hallway, knee bouncing with a mixture of impatience and anxiety. "He's holdin' up okay, I think. But from what Jack told me in his letters, this kid is used to compartmentalizing. So, he could just be pushing everything aside until it's safe to feel it. To see his own father killed like that…"

Grissom vaguely heard Archie and Ecklie argue about something as they passed by his office but was too focused on Nick's current state of mind to pay the dispute any attention. "Letters?" he probed.

Turning back to face the night-shift supervisor, Nick had a small smile on his face. "Yeah, Jack used to write me when he was over in Afghanistan. He wrote his folks, too, but he had to censor those letters quite a bit, so as not to scare Auntie Viv with what was really happening around him. Gris, man, it was really bad over there and this kid was Jack's one shining light in a world filled with a whole lotta darkness."

"That's where they met? In Afghanistan?"

When he looked back into the hall, Nick's eyes filled with concern as he watched the blond genius become increasingly antsy. While he continued talking about the letters, the young CSI was completely oblivious to being studied in the same manner by his mentor. "Jack said, before that, he'd never known how much devotion he could feel towards one person. All he wanted to do was protect him from every bad thing in the world."

"I know how he feels," Gil said quietly, gaze still locked on Nick.

Nick spun back around, peering at Grissom with a now inquisitive gaze. Head cocked to the side, he said, "You do?"

Shaking his head with fondness, Gil stood, gathering his paperwork together before joining Nick on the other side of the desk. "So, tell me, Nick - how are _you_ holding up?"

"Me? I'm fine. MacGyver's the one who we need to be worried about. I don't know what he'll do, if we don't find—"

"Just as MacGyver is Jack's responsibility," Grissom cut in. "You, are mine."

"Gris—"

"Jack is your cousin, Nick. And the two of you are pretty close from the sounds of it—"

The faint chirping of a phone had Nick's attention snapping back to the hallway; Gil followed his line of sight.

Mac sat in a glass walled hallway, feeling much like a fish in a proverbial fishbowl. The cushions and chrome arms of the chair did nothing to quell his need to keep moving as his knee bounced in beat with his pounding heart.

They were wasting time. He wanted nothing more than to get up and leave but, if Nick was right and this team would be willing to help, then he owed it to Jack to stick around for a little bit longer. He watched through the window as Nick spoke with a slightly older man sitting in an office which appeared to be filled with rather odd paraphernalia. The specimen jars and framed insects actually reminded MacGyver of Jimmy Hampton, one of his roommates from M.I.T.

He'd only been in that dorm room for a couple weeks before requesting a transfer to a different room. He had nothing against Jimmy. But waking up from one of his frequent nightmares to find a tarantula who'd escaped from it's Plexiglas enclosure had taken up residence on his pillow was just a bit too much for Mac to endure.

Thankfully, Jimmy hadn't taken offense. In fact, to this day, they still chatted once every few months.

"The object of the game is to make it to Uncle Jesse's farm without running into Roscoe."

MacGyver's ears perked at the odd statement coming from one of the rooms a few doors down from where he was sitting. All he could see were labs, and everyone inside the labs appeared to be working. So, the conversation he was overhearing must've been taking place in the one room without glass walls which lay to his right. The door was open slightly, allowing for the voices from inside to carry a bit.

Mac had grown up watching old reruns of The Dukes of Hazard with Bozer. Before he was able to catch any further snippets of nostalgia, a slightly balding man in a suit navigated the hallway, seemingly on his way home for the night. He stood out because, to the best of MacGyver's recollection, he was the only one he'd seen wearing a tie. As Mr. Suit passed by, he discussed budgeting constraints with a much younger man in a hoodie.

Unable to break old habits, Mac looked at each ID badge filing their names away for future reference. The suit's name was Conrad Ecklie; the younger guy's ID said Archie Johnson.

"Come on, you can't un-fund me now," Archie protested, as they rounded the next corner, moving away from Mac. "I'm committed to presenting the paper at SWAFS next month."

They were out of MacGyver's field of vision now, but he could still hear Conrad Ecklie's response: "If it means that much to you, pay your own way. Show a little dedication to your discipline."

Ecklie went on to lecture Archie about how some guy named Grissom puts his own money into his passions. A moment later, Mac watched the young man in question come back around the corner. He nodded hello to MacGyver as he passed. Mac nodded back. He didn't really feel like chatting and must have put off that vibe because, although the guy appeared quite friendly, Archie made no attempt to strike up conversation.

MacGyver knew SWAFS to be the acronym for Southwestern Association of Forensic Scientists, and wondered briefly if Archie would be the one processing the evidence from his father's house. He surprised even himself at how detached he was. But, as much as he hated to admit it, Murdoc had been right about one thing. MacGyver had to stay focused.

As James' only surviving family member, Mac had been the only one available to ID the body, but Nick had managed to have that duty postponed for the time being. His father was dead, there was nothing Mac could do to about that now, and ID'ing his body wouldn't change that fact. But he could still save Jack.

His phone chirped inside his coat pocket. He pulled it out, hoping to see some kind of contact from Riley, but the text on the screen was from a Blocked Number.

' _Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques; Dormez-vous, dormez-vous?'_

Just as Mac realized it must be from Murdoc, another text popped up.

' _You have exactly nine hours._ '

A third text came with another link. Mac closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to fortify himself for what was to come, then tapped the link.

It was another video, this one had Jack playing the lead, though. He was stretched out in a coffin. His eyes were closed, and Mac's breath caught in his chest! No! Jack couldn't be dead; he just couldn't!

Seconds later, the brown eyes slowly opened, as if from a deep sleep. MacGyver watched as Jack tried to sit up, hitting his forehead against the lid of the coffin. Then Jack's gaze became much more alert as he studied the walls surrounding him. A barely contained panic showed in the brown orbs but the former Delta Commando controlled it with practiced skill. Likely knowing who was behind his kidnapping already, Jack would be loath to show any weakness that Murdoc might see. One of the many things Mac and his partner had in common.

Suddenly, the walls around Mac looked far too much like those around Jack; he felt them closing in on him. An all too vivid memory of his father being shot bounced around in his brain, along with fragments of his nightmare about Jack being swallowed up by the earth. Dropping the phone onto the seat next to him, he quickly lurched to his feet and down the hall, making a hard left into the first Men's room he encountered.

He barely made it into the incredibly clean stall before dropping to his knees on the floor and losing his meager late-night supper into the pristine porcelain bowl. When he was finally done, he rose up on shaky legs and exited the stall… and came up short when he saw Nick leaning against one wall, arms crossed over his chest. Waiting.

"You followed me to the bathroom?" Mac asked, head pounding even worse now. He moved to the sinks to wash his hands, then splashed cold water up onto his face before cupping some into his mouth and spitting it back into the sink. He grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser to dry his hands and face, then tossed the crumpled towels into the trash.

Nick held up Mac's phone, which was still playing the video of Jack in the glass coffin - the countdown revealed 08hrs 55mins remaining. "You dropped something in your 10-meter dash."

Mac took the phone and slipped it back into his pocket. "More like seven meters, actually."

"Is this Murdoc guy for real?" the CSI asked, tone coloured with disbelief that someone could be this cruel.

"You have no idea," MacGyver confirmed as they exited the bathroom.

Mac stood across the meeting table from Nick's old boss, Gil Grissom. Also at the table were Warrick Brown, Catherine Willows, and Sara Sidle. The video Murdoc sent of Jack was still on Mac's phone - 08hrs 31mins remaining. His heart breaking for his best friend, MacGyver was unable to take his eyes off the video, until he felt someone else's eyes on him.

It was Grissom. Mac was certain the man was used to having people squirm under his scrutiny—well, if that's what he was expecting from MacGyver, he was going to be sorely mistaken. Mac held the other man's gaze with a confidence he didn't have to fake. He was clearly being tested and Mac never failed tests. In the end, Grissom smiled. Actually, it was more like a smirk, but it was a friendly smirk tinged with approval. Though, approval for what exactly, Mac wasn't entirely sure.

A moment later, Nick came through the door and MacGyver couldn't help the flinch and sudden intake of breath. The guy looked so much like Jack, it was uncanny. Stokes didn't miss the effect either, and canted his head to the side, silently asking if Mac was okay. Instead of answering, Mac averted his gaze, deciding it would be the perfect time to check his phone for any contact from Riley. His concern ratcheted up a few notches, realizing that his friend was continuing to hold her silence. _Where was she?_ he wondered as he quickly navigated back to the video.

"Thanks for coming in," Nick said to Catherine and Warrick. "Cath, I know you were probably spending time with Lindsay."

"Lindsay's at a sleep over tonight. And, even if she wasn't, this is your cousin, Nick," she told him matter-of-factly. "Your family is our family, you know that."

"Yeah," Warrick added. "There's no place we'd rather be."

Nick smiled appreciatively at both of them, then stepped over to the computer keyboard and pulled a map of Nevada up on the large view screen which almost completely covered one wall of the room.

"Greg and Hodges are still processing the evidence from the house," Grissom told Nick. "Did anything come back on the prints you found in the van?"

Mac's head whipped around to face the lead CSI. "We don't need prints," he insisted. "We already know who took Jack."

"Don't mind Grissom, Mac," Nick returned lightly. "He's just a big believer in following the evidence. We all are, actually. It's kinda what we do."

"And the word of a scientist like yourselves doesn't qualify as evidence?" Mac challenged, gaze remaining on Grissom.

"Not really, no," Grissom told him, though not unkindly.

Mac visibly bristled at the lead CSI's words, "Nick was with me when I got the call," he insisted. "Don't you trust _him_?"

"Of course, we do," Gil continued. "But it's not about trust. This Murdoc character could be behind the kidnapping, but don't you want to know if he's working with someone?"

"You said yourself, this was a contract hit," Catherine cut in. "What if the person who hired him is working alongside him?"

Nodding reluctantly in agreement, Mac conceded, "Then that person's prints would be in the van, as well."

"But Murdoc is our only lead," Nick said. "Archie wasn't able to get an exact location with the trace but he was able to confirm Murdoc was in the state of Nevada when he called you."

"Is that supposed to be good news?" Mac asked. "Nevada is close to 300,000 square miles."

"MacGyver has a point, Nick," Sara added.

Warrick took a sip of his coffee, wincing at the taste. He nodded a thank you to Catherine when she grabbed the sugar and handed it over to him. It sometimes baffled him that she knew him so well—then again, she was a first-class investigator. And a stunningly beautiful one at that.

Surprised at his unintended train of thought, Warrick cleared his throat as he added some more sugar to his coffee. "It's a lot of area to search, man," he told Nick. "And we don't know for sure this guy hasn't changed locations since the time of the call."

But Nick was not going to be thwarted. "No, we don't. But, until the rest of the evidence is processed, it's all we have to go on at this point. Unless…" He turned to MacGyver. "You said Murdoc likes riddles, right? Word play?"

"He pretty much lives for playing on people's emotions with his extravagant games," Mac confirmed.

"Yeah, I've seen his work first hand," Nick said with a sympathetic smile.

"What are you thinking, Nicky?" Warrick asked.

"Well, if we take everything Mac knows, all the things Murdoc has said so far, maybe we can type them into the computer—"

"And find a correlation to narrow our search area," Grissom finished. "Good idea, Nick."

The flush of pleasure Mac saw on Nick's face at Gil's praise told him how important this man's opinion was to the CSI. It made him miss Jack all that much more.

"Mac?" Nick prompted. "Are you ready for this?"

Straightening his back, and effectively firming his resolve, MacGyver nodded. "What do you need to know?"

"Think back to your conversations with Murdoc," Grissom suggested. "Did he say anything out of the ordinary? Anything odd?"

Mac's lips quirked without humour, earning a quizzical glance from everyone else in the room. "Murdoc lives for 'odd'," he explained.

"Sounds like someone we know," Sara teased, locking eyes with Grissom, who pretended to be completely oblivious to her meaning.

"Yeah, well, Murdoc's kind of 'odd' typically ends up with innocent people dying," MacGyver clarified.

"So, what stands out?" Catherine asked.

Mac thought for a moment. "He called me Prince Charming."

Nick quickly typed Prince Charming into the database.

"Prince Charming? And why is that unusual?" Sara queried, unable to deny the fact that MacGyver was quite attractive and she could totally see him being someone's Prince Charming — though, not hers, she thought with a surreptitious glance at Grissom.

"Well, on top of being a sociopathic serial killer," Mac explained, "Murdoc has a classic case of Narcissistic Personality Disorder — "

"And a narcissist would put himself in the lead role of any story," Grissom added, the glint of interest in his eyes telling Mac that he was committed to this investigation, after all. "What else? It doesn't matter how trivial it seems."

"Just before he hung up, he mentioned something about Jack always saying 'don't try anything hinkey'. In the six-plus years that I've known him, Jack has never said that."

"He never said it when we were kids, either," Nick said, adding 'hinkey' to the word search. "He said something about a creek, too, didn't he? And a Swiss Army knife?" he added with a quirked brow.

"Murdoc knows that's my tool of choice. Never leave home without it."

MacGyver grinned slightly at his own bit of wordplay, but Nick couldn't help but notice the smile didn't reach his eyes. Knowing his concern stemmed from Jack's obvious affection for the kid in his letters, Nick tapped the words creek and Swiss Army knife into the computer—and, if anyone noticed he hit the keys a little harder than necessary, they didn't say anything.

"What about the correlation your friend found with the logo on the hat?" Warrick wondered.

"No," Mac said, shaking his head. "That was what led me to Paradise and the van."

"Someone who likes to work with riddles, rarely limits themselves to one meaning per riddle," Grissom advised.

Right. Mac grit his teeth, jaw muscle pulsing, as a self-deprecating anger ran through him. Why hadn't he thought of that? If Jack were there, he'd tell him to get some rest—' _Even Brainiacs need their sleep, bud.'_

Mac shook himself out of his reverie because Jack _wasn't_ there. And _this_ Brainiac wouldn't be taking any more of his advice until he was there to give it in person!

"There are lots of places called 'Paradise' around here," Catherine added, stepping closer to the screen and peering up at the map. "Whether it's irony or argument against Vegas being called 'Sin City' is anyone's guess."

Warrick began counting off their different options. "Like Mac says, there's Paradise itself, which contains a good portion of the strip. But there's also Desert Paradise Resort; Paradise Road—"

"Not to rain on anyone's parade, but there's also Paradise, California; Paradise, Utah; even a Paradise in the Virgin Islands; and probably close to 30 other places across the continental United States. How do we know Murdoc didn't take Jack to any of those places? Or, worse, overseas?"

"Murdoc likes seclusion, so I doubt it would be anywhere in the downtown core," Mac told Warrick. "And I've been to Paradise, California," he added, turning his gaze to Sara. "At approximately 600 miles from Las Vegas, it's almost ten hours away."

Nick looked up from his map search for Paradise, California. "608 miles, nine hours and 53 minutes. How did you—?"

MacGyver shrugged. "I remember stuff," he said, dismissively as he glanced at the digital countdown on the video. "Anything out of state, or especially out of the country, would negate any chance I'd have at finding Jack—and basically ruin Murdoc's fun." His teeth clenched at Jack's increasing panic as the former Delta Commando's defenses began to wear down. "Half the enjoyment for Murdoc would be having me think I actually had a chance and still failing. The original countdown gave me exactly nine hours to find Jack. We need to find a place within that time and distance."

Nick punched in Paradise Falls, Thousand Oaks, California. "310 miles, four hours and 50 minutes," he said, excitedly. He clicked the mouse a few times and the map showed the route to get there from Vegas.

Grissom eyed Catherine who was still studying the map closely. "You have another place in mind?" he asked.

"Maybe. Everything this guy says and does means something, right? Do we know the name of the person Murdoc stole the van from?"

"Yeah," Nick replied, fingers flying over the keyboard once again as his gaze moved to a smaller monitor directly in front of him.

"Bradley Stonehouse," Mac said. "Riley told me," he explained.

Nick watched closely as Mac averted his eyes from scrutiny. The hacker's continued silence was just another thing that was weighing on MacGyver's mind, and Nick found himself wondering how much more the kid could withstand before cracking completely.

Catherine's grin widened. "That's it. There's a place called Stonehouse Inn up north. Nicky, can you pull up Paradise Valley on a separate map. It's been closed for a while but it used to be a nice B&B." She turned and saw all eyes on her, then shrugged. "Money was tight when Eddie and I first got married, so he used to take me up there for our anniversaries."

Nick pulled the Stonehouse Inn up on a second map. "509 miles, 8 hours estimated travel time." He watched as MacGyver finally set his phone down on the table and stepped closer to the large screen, coming to a stop next to Catherine.

"Can you apply the search criteria?" Mac requested. Clearly, he was seeing something that no one else saw.

"Yeah, give me a second," Nick replied. After a moment, he added, "Prince Charming and Swiss Army knife are the only parameters that don't correlate." Hinkey Summit Road and Big Cottonwood Creek started to glow on the map as the computer revealed the matches within the borders of Paradise Valley.

"That's got to be it," Mac said excitedly. "That's where Murdoc is keeping Jack. We need to get there before he buries the coffin and—"

Grissom had moved to stand over Mac's phone and something in the video caught his eye. "Nick, can you put this video up on the view screen?"

"Sure, Gris," Nick told him quizzically.

"What is it?" MacGyver asked, turning to face Nick's mentor and feeling the knot of dread in his stomach grow exponentially.

Instead of answering, Grissom drew everyone's attention to the large screen.

A collective gasp sounded throughout the room. Mac's eyes filled with barely suppressed tears as the enlarged view of the video revealed the horrible truth. The sides of the coffin that had looked like a dark pine or maple on Mac's phone proved to be glass on the much bigger screen. The _soil_ on the outside of the glass was what had given it the appearance of wood on his phone.

Murdoc hadn't just locked Jack in a casket as a taunting device for Mac—he'd actually buried Jack alive!

Nick's hand gripped MacGyver's shoulder, wincing when the contact elicited a surprised gasp from the younger man. He watched as one tear slipped past the kid's defenses.

"Excuse me," Mac said, stuffing his cell phone back into his pocket and stumbling out of the room and down the hall.

Nick started to follow, only to have Grissom take him by the elbow just a few feet outside the room. The younger CSI whirled to face him. "What — ?"

"I think, maybe he should stay behind for this. We don't know what we'll find out there."

The rest of the team appeared in the doorway behind Grissom. "Gris is right, Nicky. He's too personally involved," Warrick added.

"Aw, come on," Nick argued, incredulity shining in his eyes. "How would you feel if it were me buried alive out there? Would you allow yourself to be sidelined?" His gaze moved from Grissom, to Warrick, to Catherine and Sara. "Would _any_ of you?" Tearing himself free from Grissom's hold, he rushed after MacGyver.

Several minutes later, Nick finally found Mac out on the back patio used by the lab employees for the occasional breaks where they were able to actually step away from their work for a bit. Right then, the patio was empty but for one blond genius who was barely holding himself together, pacing back and forth, shoving his hands through his hair in a way that spoke volumes of the torment brewing inside him.

MacGyver kept his back to Nick while the CSI studied him carefully. "You know," Nick began, "I've been thinkin'. Jack used to write me letters when he was over in Afghanistan." Mac canted his head a bit, watching Nick through the corner of his eye. Intrigued despite himself, but unwilling to face Jack's doppelgänger just then. "He told me that he'd met this kid who looked barely old enough to drive, let alone be dealing with the atrocities that came with a war. Well," he amended with a grin, "he didn't use the word 'atrocities' per se, but that's what he meant."

Mac's laugh came out sounding more like a choked sob. He grit his teeth, defiantly pushing his emotions further down.

The CSI took a hesitant step towards him. "He said, he and this kid became fast friends; and soon enough, the kid came to be like the son he never had. He also said that this kid's painful childhood had created the need for strong walls of defense, the likes of which no war had even seen before. But, see, these walls were built around this kid's heart. Making it so that he didn't trust anybody." Nick took another step closer. "Jack never mentioned any names, mind you; but you and I both know who he was talkin' about." He took Mac gently by the arm and turned the blond around to face him, much like Grissom had done to him only moments before. "Don't we?"

Mac didn't have _time_ for this. He needed to find Jack before it was too late. He made a move to pass Nick, but the CSI inserted himself directly into his path.

"See, Jack has this way of getting past the strongest defenses. Has something to do with his gigantic heart, I think." He reached out, placing a hand gently on Mac's arm. "I'm not tryin' to replace him, Mac. And I'm not even asking you to trust me enough to let me all the way into that little Fort Knox of yours. But you're a ticking time bomb, waitin' to explode, man."

MacGyver was shaking now. His head was pounding so hard, it felt like it would fall from his shoulders any second. He finally made hesitant eye contact with Nick, and his breath caught in his throat again at the uncanny resemblance to Jack. One more tear slipped past his walls. "I have to find him!" he managed to choke out.

"We will," Nick assured him. "But something else Jack told me was that, although the kid he met never carried a gun, he could disarm a bomb like nobody's business. You need to release at least some of the pressure building up inside you, or that explosion is gonna happen at the worst possible time. Maybe even undermining any attempt to save Jack." Watching MacGyver carefully, not wanting to cross any boundaries, Nick took one final step forward, placing his arm around the quaking shoulders and gently pulling Mac close. The kid remained tense in his arms, but he didn't pull away. Nick took that as a win, and a few minutes later, the shaking in the slight frame started to ease bit by bit. Maybe he was actually getting through to him—

And then Mac's phone rang. He pulled away from Nick, embarrassed, averting his gaze once again. Glancing at the cell phone screen he saw that it was Bozer calling back. He accepted the call and put the phone up to his ear. "Bozer, now is not a good ti—" he cut himself off, eyes widening in shock. "Wait, what? When?"

Nick watched as Mac once again pushed a hand through his already mussed hair, turning away from him again as fresh agony formed in his eyes. ' _Man, would this kid ever catch a break?_ '

"Uh, okay, keep me posted okay? Jack and I will get back as soon as we can!" He disconnected the call and locked eyes with Nick. "Riley's car went off the road," he revealed quietly.

"Aw, man! Your hacker friend? Is she okay?"

"They don't know yet. She's in surgery. But it doesn't look good." Mac's mind traveled back of its own accord to the day before when he'd snapped at her for no good reason. Then Murdoc's voice sounded in his head— _'Focus, MacGyver. Focus.'_ Tucking his emotions into a tight little bottle of fortitude, Mac said, "It was a hit and run, Nick."

"An accident?" the CSI asked hopefully.

MacGyver shook his head, pacing away as he tried to process this new turn of events. "There are no accidents when it comes to Murdoc. He must have known Riley was helping me, and took the necessary measures to stop her. Now, she could die." His gaze found Nick again. "Thanks for your help, Nick. But I need to handle the rest of this on my own." Once again, he tried to move past the CSI but Nick banded one muscular arm across his chest, hauling him back to face him.

"No way are you dealin' with this guy on your own!" he said. "Jack is my cousin—"

"Exactly!" Mac insisted. "How would he feel if I got you killed!?"

"Did I not just tell you that he thinks of you as a son?" Nick demanded. "How do you think he'd feel if I let _you_ get killed? He'd never forgive me! Heck, I'd never forgive _myself!"_

That pulled Mac up short. After a moment, he finally backed down. "Fine," he said. "But just you. I don't want to have to worry about any other deaths ending up on my conscience."

' _I cannot do my thing, if I'm worried about losin' you every minute! The last thing I need is your death on my conscience. Don't do that to me. That'd kill me.'_

"No one's dyin' today, kid."

Nick's voice yanked MacGyver back to the present. "Yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "Let's go."

TBC

 _A/N 2 Thoughts? One more chapter after this one, methinks! ;-)_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N 1 Once again your wonderful reviews spurred me on! Thank you all SO MUCH! I'm so happy you all seem to be enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it! :-D And, to the reviewers I'm unable to reply to (OuterMars, BapBapBap28, and Guests), thank you for your wonderful reviews, as well! :-D_

 _A/N 2 Since I'm pretty sure we're all going through Mac &Jack withdrawals - not just with this story, but also with the gap between S1 and S2! - I figured I'd throw a flashback into this chapter... and, yeah, not final chapter. Might be one or two after this. I have them planned but not completely written, so not sure yet. Depends on where the angst and h/c takes me! :-) I hope you all enjoy!_

 **CHAPTER TEN**

As soon as they'd discovered that Nick and Mac had gone off the grid to save Jack Dalton on their own, Grissom and Warrick jumped into Warrick's SUV and followed while the rest of the CSI team stayed behind to finish processing the evidence from James MacGyver's house as it trickled in. There didn't seem to be all that much to find, so far.

"What was he thinking?" Grissom demanded, annoyed at Nick's blatant disregard for his own safety.

Warrick glanced at him from the driver's seat. "He's not on the clock, Gris," he began, but a quick look at the night-shift supervisor told him loud and clear the frustration had nothing to do with insubordination. "I think, Nick is trying to protect us," he amended. "This Murdoc guy seems to be quite the psychopath!"

"All the more reason why we should be working as a team," Grissom argued.

Gris didn't even make an attempt to educate him on the differences between psychopath and sociopath. It wasn't a necessary schooling as it was something that Warrick already knew anyway, but Gil Grissom rarely passed up on a chance to educate one of his protégés on common worldly misconceptions. The fact that he chose not to take advantage of this particular opportunity spoke volumes to Warrick about the lead CSI's concern for Nick Stokes.

"Well, you know Nick," Warrick tried, hoping that would alleviate some of the concern.

"Yes, I do, Warrick," Grissom countered. "That's why I'm worried."

They both knew Nick tended to be a bit of a cowboy when it came to catching the bad guys, partly because of his Texas roots but also because the guy just had a big heart and wanted to protect anyone and everyone he cared about.

Warrick flicked his eyes from the road to Grissom and back again. Realizing the truth in the older man's words, he promptly floored it, the inertia causing both of them to jerk back in their seats.

They'd been driving for almost five hours. Nick was doing his best to keep an eye on both the rode and his passenger, but MacGyver's expression was now carefully stoic as he studied the presumably live video still playing out on his phone. The devastation had been clear on his face when he'd first received the video, and again after discovering Murdoc's true game-plan, but now the emotions appeared to be safely secreted away from all scrutiny. Nick couldn't be certain, but he had the feeling Jack Dalton would be the only one able to get through to the kid now.

Feeling like somewhat of a voyeur, Mac couldn't tear his eyes away from the footage on his phone as he and Nick raced toward Paradise Valley, Nevada. He'd wanted to take the GTO because he felt closer to Jack that way, but Nick had raised the valid point that they may encounter some questionable terrain on their journey—'with it being a desert 'n all', the CSI had explained facetiously—and Mac had reluctantly agreed to leave Jack's car behind at the Crime Lab, where it would at least be safe from possible vandals.

Which was why he now sat in Nick's Yukon Denali, with the video as his only connection to his best friend and partner.

"How's he doin'?" Nick asked from the driver's seat.

Mac stared at the footage for another moment, heart breaking at the sight of his partner slowly coming apart at the seams, then cleared his throat and asked, "How much farther?"

Knowing that the kid's reluctance to describe Jack's current state could only mean bad things for his cousin, Nick pressed down harder on the gas pedal. "Another few hours," he admitted, regretfully.

The countdown on the screen now read 3hrs:16mins. Without warning, Mac flashed back to another countdown; one with a much shorter time frame, but with just as much potential for disaster.

CAIRO – A FEW YEARS AGO

 _Jack was on his knees with Farhad's gun aimed point-blank at his head; while one of his men stepped up behind MacGyver and pointed a semi-automatic rifle between his shoulder blades._

" _So, perhaps this little uprising is good for something, after all," Farhad laughed._

 _Mac glanced down at the digital readout on the dirty bomb—just over ten seconds remaining. Every muscle in his body tensed in preparation for the blast. Any second now…_

" _Jack!" he yelled in warning, even as he spun around and knocked the rifle's muzzle up and away from his back, then shoved the terrorist-goon hard enough that the guy landed flat on his back on the floor. Mac saw Farhad shift the gun to bear on him, and Jack snapped into action, grabbing the gun and twisting it out of the terrorist's grip. Even from this distance, Mac heard the sickening snap of bone as Farhad's wrist objected to the rough handling._

 _Seconds later, Jack flattened himself to the floor, folding his arms over his head, while Mac jumped inside the crate and ducked down into the straw and hay as best he could._

 _BOOM!_

 _The device Mac had rigged up several feet behind them exploded, destroying much of the warehouse with it in its fiery blast! Taking a cue from his partner, MacGyver also covered his head with his arms as the flames roared a few feet above him, feeling the heat singe his hair and the sleeves of his shirt._

 _A moment later, he risked raising his head up past the lip of the crate, wincing when he saw the man who'd been holding him at gun point laying on his stomach, charred remains telling Mac that he had to be dead._

 _He was so focused on the body, Mac grunted in surprise when something sharp cut into his left calf beneath the hay insulation in the crate. He could feel a slight trickle of what he could only assume was blood running down his leg and soaking into his sock._

 _Perfect. The last thing they needed right now was for Mac to be sidelined by some kind of infection from the bacteria that was sure to be crawling over whatever metal shard had just sliced through his skin. Regardless, he couldn't worry about that just then._

 _Ignoring the pain for the time being but making a mental note to disinfect the area as soon as he got them out of this mess, Mac's gaze promptly sought out and found the timer on the dirty bomb—00:00. He had emasculated the device just moments before 'arming' it to distract and fool Farhad and his men._

 _Jack was always saying that Mac couldn't bluff his way out of a paper bag during a friendly game of poker. But, it would seem, he had no problem bluffing his way out of a confrontation with terrorists about to kill him and his partner. He was pretty sure even Jack would agree that the latter was a more important skill to have._

 _Mind you, his own blast was supposed to pack much less punch than it obviously had. He stared with a tiny bit of awe at the flames currently rising up into the rafters of the old building; the dried wood was burning at a dangerously expedited rate._

" _Jack?" MacGyver called, jumping out of the crate. He crouched down and checked for the terrorist's pulse—nearly gagging when he accidentally breathed in through his nose. Nothing. Knowing that the burnt flesh could be hampering his ability to recognize a heartbeat by touch alone, Mac carefully turned the man over onto his back. "Jack!" he called out again as he studied the terrorist laying at his feet. Any question he'd had about the man's condition was dismissed by the lifeless eyes staring up at him. Biting back his remorse, knowing that his actions had been necessary despite the regrettable outcome, Mac stood up and stepped away from the body._

 _He had more important things to worry about just then—not the least of which being a stubbornly unresponsive partner!_

" _Jack!" His voice was now tinged with equal amounts impatience and fear as he made his way to the other side of the crate where he'd last seen Jack. The longer his friend failed to answer him, the higher MacGyver's heart rate elevated._

 _He gagged again when the smell of more burnt flesh reached his nostrils seconds before he rounded the corner of the crate. Nausea swirled in his stomach when he saw Farhad and the rest of his men in a similar state to their deceased and badly burned colleague behind him._

 _Finally, Mac found the object of his search, still flat on his stomach, laying beneath the burnt remains of Farhad who had clearly been thrown on top of the former Delta Commando in the concussion of the blast. From where Mac was standing, his partner appeared to not be burned at all. Unfortunately, he also wasn't moving._

 _"Jack!" MacGyver cried with renewed desperation. Forgetting about both the nausea and his need to be respectful of the dead, he raced forward and dropped to his knees at Jack's hip, rolling the lead terrorist haphazardly to the side and off his partner._

 _He felt for a pulse below Jack's jaw, fervently praying for a different result than the previous—far less important—examination. He breathed a sigh of relief at the lub-dub beneath his fingers. Unconscious. Not dead. He glanced around at the flames that were lashing out at them, then looked up at the crate. He had disconnected the explosive components from the timer before setting it, but that wouldn't stop the fire from creating an equally disastrous effect once it got close enough to ignite the chemicals inside the dirty bomb._

 _His gaze quickly found the two fire extinguishers on the wall closest to them; another attached to the corner of a nearby shelving unit. He eyed the crate; a still unconscious Jack; then shifted his focus to other tools available to him—including the forklift standing thirty feet away, not yet touched by the flames. Then, true to form, an idea struck._

 _Several minutes later, the lid was back on the crate to further protect the device from the heat; three fire extinguishers were attached to the far side of it, with a piece of wire stretching out from each one and tied to one longer one, giving Mac simultaneous control of all three levers with one pull of the wire. Finally, the business end of the forklift was situated beneath the crate and ready to lift._

 _Mac looked at Jack slumped next to him on the seat of the machine and wearing the only oxygen mask Mac had been able to build on such short notice. Lifting Jack's dead-weight of solid muscle had been the most difficult task, but Mac had finally managed to lift him up onto the seat before climbing up himself. Others might scream 'greater good' and the need to save the many over the one—but, as much as his partner sometimes frustrated him, he seriously loved the big guy! So, yeah, leaving Jack behind was just not an option._

 _Slowly, MacGyver pressed down on the gas pedal, moving the forklift towards the exit with the least amount of flame blocking it. As they got closer, he pulled on the wire intermittently, causing the carbon-dioxide to stream out from the extinguishers, effectively eliminating the oxygen that was giving life to the flames in their path. Unfortunately, that same oxygen was what was giving_ _Mac_ _life, too._

 _Figuring it would be a short trip, he held his breath as best he could as he drove the forklift directly through the cloud of carbon-dioxide. Unfortunately, the cloud also made it difficult for him to see anything that might be in the machine's path, and it bumped into other crates and obstacles on its way to the exit._

 _His lungs_ _ **burned**_ _with the need for oxygen. As a trained field agent, Angus MacGyver was able to effectively hold his breath for considerable amounts of time in any given situation. But the delay caused by each obstacle and the necessity to put the forklift into reverse, maneuver around whatever was in his path, and then begin the forward momentum again, made the expected short journey take much longer than even his lung capacity could manage._

 _Which was why, just seconds before reaching fresh air, MacGyver's reflexive instincts began the ardent fight to take over, demanding he inhale, and essentially ignoring his brain's insistence that such an act could very well kill him!_

 _So, as his eyes teared from the smoke and extinguisher fumes, and his lungs ached with the lack of oxygen, his reflexes won the battle and he inhaled the tail end of the CO2 still in the air. When the forklift finally made it past the cloud and into the fresh air beyond and Jack began to stir on the seat next to him, Mac jumped down off the forklift, falling to his knees on the pavement and coughing explosively._

 _Doubling over in his desperate attempt to draw in oxygen, he heard Jack call his name as if yelling under water. A moment later, the former Delta Commando's concerned face swam into view above him just as the darkness encroached on his vision, taking away all cognizance. Mac abruptly fell into found himself unable to breathe any longer and was consumed by the darkness._

 _It seemed like just an instant later when he jackknifed into a fetal position, coughing harshly once again. An arm slipped beneath his shoulders and before he knew what was happening, Jack was lifting him up and back to lean against his chest. His partner then carded his free hand through Mac's hair in a very father-like gesture that had MacGyver's chest constricting for totally different reasons._

" _You okay, brother?" Jack asked, sounding a little shaky._

" _Yeah," Mac assured him, voice rough from a combination of the severe coughing and the emotions he was trying desperately to suppress. He'd only known Jack Dalton for a little over two years and already the man had wormed his way past the 24-year-old's defenses like no one else before him._

" _Sorry," Jack told him, trying for levity and failing miserably. "All the oxygen from the mask you MacGyver'd together was gone. Had to help you breathe the old-fashioned way."_

 _Mac was just about to respond to that admission when, for the first time since exiting what had almost become their fiery tomb, his gaze took in the sight of the warehouse still being devoured by the flames. He felt badly about the ancient artifacts that would surely not survive, but was happy that both he and Jack would live to tell the tale. He pulled away from Jack's one-armed embrace. "We need to get out of here before the local authorities arrive and think we're to blame for this."_

" _Okay, Nikki should be waiting for us about two klicks from here. Can you stand?"_

 _Mac gave him a look that spoke volumes of what he thought of that question, earning a chuckle from Jack. The former Delta Commando stood, then reached out one hand to offer his assistance to his partner. When Mac grabbed his hand in return, he was carefully hauled to his feet._

 _It was in that moment that they heard the sirens fast approaching from somewhere in the distance. The partners shared matching expressions of urgency. MacGyver rushed over to the nearby brick planter filled with bushes to retrieve their judiciously concealed Go-Bag, while Jack moved to grab the dirty bomb from the crate._

 _Mac eyed the Go-bag yearningly, knowing that a well-insulated and cold bottle of water sat inside, just waiting to be guzzled back and poured over his head. But, with the sirens growing louder by the second, he would have to wait until later for relief from the heat._

" _Whoa!" Jack yelped behind him._

 _MacGyver spun around—too quickly, it seemed, as it took a second for the rest of the world to catch up with him. Shaking his head a bit to clear it, he asked, "What is it? You okay?"_

" _Yeah," Jack told him. There was an odd lilt to his voice, like he had just had just been startled, but by what Mac had no idea. "Yeah, I'm good."_ _And h_ _is partner's voice returned to normal so quickly, MacGyver almost thought he'd imagined the peculiar tone._

" _How about you?" Jack asked, standing in front of him now, the satchel designed specifically to carry the dirty bomb clasped securely in his arms. "You're sweating."_

" _We're in Egypt," the blond countered with a roll of the eyes. "It's perfectly normal to sweat."_

" _Okay, okay," Jack returned. "No need to have a hissy fit."_

 _MacGyver was unable to completely hide the tiny grin forming of its own volition. "Can we go now? I'd really rather not have my second date with Nikki take place in an Egyptian prison."_

" _Well, I don't know. Have you ever had baba ganoush? It's—" The screech of squealing tires quickly drew their attention to the other side of the lot. Through the haze of smoke, they saw three jeeps pull up next to Farhad's abandoned one several yards away. "Yeah," Jack belatedly agreed, adjusting the satchel to carry it over his shoulder and silently urging Mac to take the lead into a nearby alleyway. "Time to go!"_

 _MacGyver sensed rather than saw Jack pull his gun out from beneath the waistband of his black jeans at the small of his back, firing a few shots to ward off their pursuers long enough for Mac to get a bit of a lead. With a huff of frustration, Mac turned back to him. "Jack," he said irritably, "I'm not leaving without you! Come on!"_

 _Jack peered back at him with an inscrutable look on his face, then fired one more shot before following Mac as requested._

 _Ten minutes later, they were almost at exfil where Nikki would be waiting. Mac could even see the clearing up ahead, the tarmac coming into view between two abandoned buildings. But wait… something didn't feel right._

 _Mac skidded to a stop. A few seconds later, Jack ran into his back, causing Mac to stumble forward a few steps. He fell to his knees, the Go-bag hitting the pavement next to him._

" _Mac!" he heard Jack exclaim before stepping around to crouch in front of him. "Are you okay? Why'd you stop? Mac?"_

 _MacGyver heard Jack but his focus was on something over his shoulder. Movement, maybe? There! Yeah, someone was hiding, just barely visible in the shadows. "Ambush," he warned quietly._

 _Jack turned, following his line of sight. "Where? I don't see anything."_

" _Over there," Mac hissed, pointing into the shadows along their escape route. He stood up, not liking the vulnerability of being on his knees. Obstinately ignoring the shooting pain in his left leg, his gaze darted from left to right, seeking out other threats._

 _Standing at his shoulder now, Jack glanced back the way they came, then peered into the shadows. "Stay here," he whispered, as he advanced on their would-be attackers, gun held ready._

 _MacGyver reached out to stop him, fingers only grazing his friend's arm. "Jack!" he admonished, keeping his voice quiet. Other than dismissing his concern with a wave of the hand, the Delta Commando ignored Mac's plea and continued his trek into the gloom several feet away._

 _A few minutes later, long enough for Mac's heart rate to increase exponentially, Jack returned. "There's nothing there, man."_

" _What?" Mac's gaze moved from the shadows to his partner and back again. "No. No, I can see them! Why can't you see them?" He grabbed Jack by the arm, encouraging him away from the shadows. "We need to find another route to exfil," he declared._

" _There is no other route," Jack reminded him. "You know that."_

 _Now, he was peering at Mac, leaning way too far into his personal space. Mac moved to take a step back but Jack gripped him firmly by the shoulders._

" _What's wrong with you?"_

" _Nothing!" MacGyver insisted, pulling away, desperately wanting to return the way they'd come. "We need to get out of here!" Why wasn't Jack able to understand? It wasn't safe here!_

 _Jack's phone rang suddenly, earning a surprised jump from MacGyver. He answered his phone with one hand, moving his other to get a vise-like grip on Mac's forearm, holding him in place despite the fervent struggles. "Hey, Nikki… What?… No, no…," he studied Mac closely as he spoke into the phone. "We're fine… I got this… we'll be there in a minute… Hmmm?… No, maintain your position." With that, he hung up._

" _We need to go, Jack," the blond protested pleadingly._

 _Moving his hands up to cup Mac's face, Jack stepped forward again, invading his personal space even more than before. Unable to get free, Mac at least watched his partner's back, frantic gaze taking in as much as he could from this vantage point._

" _Look at me," Jack said._

 _They didn't have time for this. Soldiers were gaining on them from behind; waiting for them up ahead. They_ _needed_ _to find a different route to exfil._

" _Look_ _at me," Jack repeated, going into full Delta Commando mode this time._

 _Startled, MacGyver did as he was told. He was confused by the sudden flicker of emotion in his partner's eyes—going from stern to soft with the snap of the fingers._

" _When that blast went off back at the warehouse, where did you take cover?"_

 _What did_ _that_ _have to do with anything? Mac tried again to pull free, but Jack refused to release him, even going so far as to use his thumbs to pull down on MacGyver's lower lids and leaning in closer to look into his eyes._

" _Answer me, brother."_

" _In the crate," Mac replied impatiently._

 _Suddenly, Jack released his face, his hands moving down Mac's arms; his torso; then finally his legs. Was he frisking him—?_

 _All thoughts abruptly disappeared as an unexpected sharp pain shot through his entire being, temporarily blinding him in a haze of white agony._

 _When the pain finally subsided, Jack was holding him firmly in his arms. Mac was doubled over, his face mashed up against his partner's chest. He felt Jack's hands push through his hair, then ease him away and grip the sides of his face again. He was speaking to him, but Mac had to fight to understand the words._

"… _scorpion…"_

" _What?" Mac finally managed, fighting the dizziness threatening to overtake him._

" _When I got the bomb outta the crate, I saw a scorpion scurry out from beneath it."_

" _Scorpion?" Mac asked, confused, eyes still darting from left to right, needing to watch his partner's back._

 _Jack pulled him up to stand at his full height. "You're hallucinating, brother," he said urgently, gaze flicking to the opening in the alleyway behind them. "There's no one in the shadows. It's just your imagination."_

" _No," Mac said, trying to pull away again when Jack started urging him towards exfil. "No, you're wrong," he insisted._

 _Shouting could be heard from behind them. Mac's eyes widened with alarm, even as everything began to blur in and out of focus. Jack tried to pull him towards the shadows again, but Mac resisted. Why didn't his partner understand? They couldn't go in that direction either. They were trapped! Mac would_ _know_ _if he was hallucinating. He struggled against Jack's hold. They needed to—_

 _He watched as Jack kept a firm hold on his arm and picked up the Go-bag with his free hand, depositing it on the same shoulder as the satchel carrying the disarmed dirty bomb. Then he slipped the gun back beneath the waistband at the small of his back._

" _What are you doing?" Mac demanded. "Don't put your gun away! We need to—"_

" _Sorry, brother," Jack said, grabbing Mac by the wrist and abruptly folding him over his shoulders._

" _Jack!" he protested angrily. "Put me down!" The dizziness returned full force, making it increasingly difficult to extricate himself from his partner's hold._

"Hey, Mac," Nick said, his voice penetrating Mac's thoughts. "You with me?"

MacGyver cleared his throat, wiping discreetly at his damp eyes. "Yeah, sorry. Where are we?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you, kid. We're here."

Mac looked at their surroundings, realizing for the first time that they were off the highway and driving through a very small town.

"Welcome to Paradise Valley. Any ideas where you want to search first?"

"No," Mac began, then he looked out his window. "Stop!"

Nick slammed on the brakes. "What?"

Without answering, Mac jumped out of the Denali. Standing in front of him was the large oak tree from his nightmare! He continued to stare at the tree as Nick came to stand beside him.

"Hey," the CSI said, bumping shoulders with him. "Look."

MacGyver tore his gaze away from the tree long enough to see what Nick was indicating with a point of his finger. Less than a block away was a street sign – _Hinkey Summit Road._

Mac abruptly heard Murdoc's voice in his head.

'… _what is it Jack says? Oh yes; don't try anything hinkey.'_

He moved to the railing of the bridge directly in front of them.

' _How horrible will it be when you lose the one person who has always been there for you, no matter what? Your bridge over troubled water, so to speak. Your one remaining father figure.'_

' _Why do you care so much, anyway? I've always been confused by your friendship. It's like Prince Charming socializing with the town troll.'_

Nick joined him and they both stared down into the creek below. MacGyver could only surmise that the CSI was hearing the same conversation in his head, putting the clues together as quickly as Mac was.

'… _if you don't find your precious Jack in time, he will be, how shall I say this… up the creek without a Swiss Army Knife?'_

"This is the place," Mac declared excitedly. He handed the cell phone to Nick, and returned to the Denali to grab the two shovels they'd loaded into the back before leaving the CSI lab.

He tossed one shovel to Nick, then half ran, half slid down the slope to the base of the tree. Hearing Nick follow, Mac found he just couldn't get there fast enough.

The sudden sharp intake of breath brought his gaze to Nick's shocked expression. The CSI was peering closely at the video on Mac's phone. "What is it?" Mac asked with more than a little trepidation. "What's happening?"

The brown eyes looked up at him, filled with emotion. "Fire ants," he said softly. "Hundreds of 'em!"

Not wasting another second, both men started digging!

TBC

 _A/N Sorry for yet another cliffie... well, I'm_ _kinda_ _sorry. LoL Anyway, rest assured, present day Jack returns in the next chapter. Along with a few more twists and turns. I hope you like this installment... and I hope all the clues fell into place organically. Please Review? :-)_


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N This time, my sincere gratitude goes out to fanotheboyz for her wonderful input and medical knowledge! :-) I hope you all enjoy this latest installment! The next chapter will be ALL ABOUT Mac &Jack, I promise!_

 **CHAPTER ELEVEN**

MacGyver and Nick made quick work of digging down to the coffin; they used a fire extinguisher from Nick's trunk to kill the fire ants—irony at its finest; then Mac walked the CSI through the process of helping him disarm two, yes, two booby traps set by none other than Murdoc but reminiscent of the Ghost… which would surely give Mac pause later on. But not now. Not tonight.

Because tonight, at long last, MacGyver finally had his best friend back. They hauled Jack out of the glass-walled coffin and, steadfastly ignoring the understandably ripe funk currently emanating from the guy, Mac pulled him straight into a bone crushing hug! Oddly, his partner stiffened within his embrace, weakly pushing against his hold and trying to pull away.

Seeing his error, MacGyver instantly released him. Clearly, Jack came to realize what Mac had known all along…

The kidnapping, the premature burial, the fire ants—every single bit of the last day and a half, not to mention the horrors Jack had likely suffered which Mac had not been made privy to yet, was the fault of none other than Angus James MacGyver.

"Hey, man," Nick tried. "I'm sure he didn't mean—"

Before the CSI could finish the platitude, Jack collapsed to his knees, then fell forward into the dirt.

"Jack!" Mac and Nick both called out simultaneously.

MacGyver dropped down next to his friend, unsure where to touch. Marks where the ants had stung coloured every exposed piece of flesh that Mac could see. Usually, a fire ant wouldn't be able to cause too much damage unless the victim ended up being allergic, which was more likely if they had been stung previously. As Jack's partner, it was Mac's responsibility to know his medical history backwards and forwards, and he could not recall any incident involving fire ants.

So, it had to be the sheer number of stings that was causing the problem. Each ant carried within it a certain amount of poison, which was transferred into its victim with each sting. Judging by the welts on Jack's skin, he'd been stung hundreds of times—and that was just the ones Mac could _see._

"Call 9-1-1," he ordered, barely glancing up at Nick as he gathered his friend up off the ground and leaned him back against his chest.

"It'll take too long for an ambulance to get all the way up here…" Nick started. "Hold on, I got an epi pen up in the truck. I'll be right back!" Without another word, he took off up the slope to where the Denali was parked.

Meanwhile, Mac held onto Jack who was twitching so badly he was nearly vibrating out of his arms. Thankfully, he wasn't coherent enough to realize who was holding him because Mac didn't think he could handle another rejection just then.

Jack had always been the somewhat touch-feely part of their particular equation, always ready to hug it out when he felt it was necessary. MacGyver on the other hand, well, he just hadn't been brought up in an environment where men were so open with their emotions.

Ironic that, with Mac's emotions hovering so close to the surface and in danger of erupting altogether, now would be the time that Jack was the one who was emotionally unavailable.

A few minutes passed, and Nick still hadn't returned with the epi pen. "Nick?!" Mac called out, eyes scanning the darkness on the road several feet above him. He couldn't see the truck from his current position, and he certainly wasn't going to let Jack go so he could get up to check, but he knew it wasn't far enough away that Nick wouldn't hear him.

He grabbed the two-way radio sitting on the ground a few feet away from him, and was just about to push the call button when a new, entirely unexpected voice, broke through the darkness.

"Sorry, Mac. Your new friend isn't able to answer you right now."

Mac froze. It had been a long time since he'd heard his name uttered from those lips. "Nikki?" he asked, looking back up the slope in time to see Nikki Carpenter step out of the shadows. His heart leapt a little bit at the sight of her, memories flooding back like no time had passed… then his heartrate increased for a completely different reason when he saw the Sig Sauer in her hand.

His eyes snapped up to meet hers—blue on blue. "What's going on?" he asked haltingly, gaze flicking to the road behind her as she descended the slope, pistol held steady.

Nikki smiled fondly. "Ah, Mac, your trusting nature is so endearing. It's one of the many reasons I fell in love with you." The smile dropped from her face, the warmth in her eyes plummeting several degrees as they took in the figure still in Mac's embrace. "But you just didn't love me back, did you?"

"Clearly, I loved you a little too much," MacGyver snarked, his mask of indifference smoothly slipping into place. "Because I fell for your lies… again."

"You didn't love me enough, Mac! Not enough to leave with me?"

"Leave? Leave where? L.A.?"

"L.A. DXS. Everything. Even after Thornton was arrested, not once did you ask to come with me, Mac."

"I couldn't. I have a life here—"

"You mean, you have Jack here."

MacGyver glanced down at his partner, still twitching, breathing becoming more and more laboured by the second. "Nikki, please. Where's Nick? He's got an epi pen that can—"

"You're supposed to be a genius, Mac. Why haven't you figured this out yet? Nick isn't coming down here with an epi pen to save Jack. Riley isn't going to pull through back at Cedar Sinai. And there's a little surprise waiting for Bozer when he returns home to mourn her passing."

Mac couldn't speak. He pulled Jack a little bit closer, wishing his friend would wake up and help him—because, Mac had to admit it, he was very close to losing it just then. _Jack? Riley? Bozer? Even dad? All of this was because of Nikki?_ Then it all clicked into place. "You _are_ with The Organization. And Thornton?"

Nikki shrugged. "She was getting a little too close for comfort, so we used her investigation against her." Gaze beseeching now, Nikki's blue eyes bore into Mac. "There's still time. They still want you to join them. We can be together again, Mac. Just like old times."

"Not a chance. You think I would want to be with you after you've killed all my friends? After you've betrayed me? Again!"

The hope in her eyes quickly morphed into hatred as she returned her attention to Jack. "I haven't killed all your friends yet," she said, cocking her gun. "Maybe once dear ol' Jack isn't around to bad mouth me, you'll remember how good we were together."

"No! Wait! I'll go with you! Just don't kill him!"

She studied him closely. "You're a horrible liar," she told him, as she advanced on them, Sig Sauer aimed point-blank at Jack. At that trajectory, the bullet would hit Jack at centre mass. There was no way he'd be able to survive that shot.

Mac scrambled to get the gun out from beneath his waistband at the small of his back. Jack's Glock. He whipped it out and took quick aim at his former girlfriend; he didn't even have time to think, not that any thought would have changed his decision.

BANG!

Grissom was out of the truck before Warrick had pulled to a complete stop. In the glow of the headlights, lay Nick Stokes. And, dang, if that sight didn't ignite the kind of borderline devastation Gil Grissom had never felt before. The only anchor keeping him on this side of the devastation was the fact that he didn't yet know for sure that Nick was indeed dead.

Warrick left the engine still running and the headlights on. He and Gil dropped at Nick's side. Gil immediately felt for a pulse and breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he detected the lub-dub beneath his finger tips.

"Nicky?" Warrick asked. "Hey, man, can you hear me?" Neither he nor Grissom could see any obvious wound, and no puddle of blood pooled beneath him. That was good news. But why wasn't he responding? He gently probed through Nick's short-cropped hair and soon hit pay-dirt when his fingers brushed against a large gash on the back of his friend's skull.

The sudden pain seemed to bring Nick almost to consciousness but he was groggy to say the least.

Seeing that his youngest CSI would likely be okay, Grissom went into law enforcement mode. His gaze began to survey the scene around them. "Where's MacGyver?" he asked. Then he saw the epi pen just inches away from Nick's outstretched hand. Gut churning with dread, he grabbed the pen off the ground. "Get him into the truck," he told Warrick.

"Where are you goin'?" Warrick asked the older man, not much surprised when he didn't get a response. With Nick out of immediate danger, that made any good mystery fair game for Gil Grissom's clue gathering skills.

Sighing with fondness for his former boss, Warrick's gaze found Nick's face and saw unfocused eyes staring up at him. "Hey, bro," he said, smiling widely. "You took quite a knock to the head there; can you walk?" The withering glare told him all he needed to know and Warrick chuckled. "Okay, okay," he said, helping Nick to his feet—and then catching him and gathering him against his chest when the smaller CSI's legs buckled under his weight. In the glow of the headlights, Warrick saw the tinge of pink on his friend's cheeks. "No worries, buddy. We'll just take it nice and slow."

"Warrick!"

The tone in Grissom's voice told both CSI's that something was wrong. As if suddenly remembering why he was out there in the first place, panic shone in Nick's eyes as he started to stumble towards the slope that led down to the large oak tree.

Warrick braced a hand on his friend's chest, stopping him easily in his tracks. "No way, man," he said sternly, earning a more heated glare this time.

"Ge' outta m' 'ay, 'arrick," Nick slurred, knocking the steadying hand off his chest. But when he took another step toward the slope, his legs gave out again.

Warrick caught him just before he face-planted. "Hey, you'll be no good to anyone if you fall on your ass and can't get back up again," he chastised. But Nick wasn't listening to reason, confirming Warrick's likely concussion diagnosis.

Casting a quick glance over his shoulder at the passenger side door Grissom had left standing open, Warrick quickly leaned down and scooped his friend up into his arms. Sensing the mortification, he muttered softly, "Don't worry, Nicky. No one's around to see this; it'll be between you an' me, bro."

After settling a still blushing and irate Nick into the seat Grissom had occupied a few moments earlier, Warrick fastened the seatbelt at his friend's hip, then locked the door and closed it—counting on the concussion to hinder any escape plan Nick might come up with.

Stubborn partners sufficiently deterred, Warrick turned and darted down the slope.

The first thing he saw was the dead young woman in the centre of the clearing, next to a freshly dug grave, Sig Sauer laying a few feet away from her.

Sitting off to the right of the body was Nick's friend, MacGyver. A Glock, which had been discarded on the ground at his hip, was currently being examined by Grissom—eyes only, though. The kid was holding a twitching man protectively against his chest, but his seriously haunted gaze was locked on the woman. Warrick got the distinct feeling that MacGyver not only knew this woman but had also felt quite strongly for her.

That was when Warrick's gaze took in the face of the man bundled up in MacGyver's arms, and he froze mid-step. He glanced back up the slope to where he knew Nick was waiting in the truck, then back at the man who could only be the one this whole case was centred around. _What the — ?_

"I know," Grissom said, kneeling at MacGyver's side. "Agent Dalton's resemblance to our Nick is uncanny, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Warrick whispered, unable to believe how alike Nick and his cousin were in their outward appearance. His cousin? His twin was more like it.

A moment later, he went into CSI mode, gaze darting about the scene before them. "So," he stood next to the body of the dead woman on the ground, "this young lady knocks Nick out from behind, then comes down here, aiming the gun at MacGyver and Agent Dalton; and MacGyver shoots her? Looks like self defense to me, Gris."

"I agree, but we still have to follow the evidence," Grissom replied, casting a sympathetic glance at MacGyver, then indicated the fire extinguisher laying in the shadows next to the trunk of the tree. "Nobody's talking yet but judging by that extinguisher, the swelling on Agent Dalton's flesh, and the dead fire ants littering the ground, I'd have to say the ants got into the coffin and began attacking the man they believed was invading their territory."

Warrick winced. "Poor guy; buried alive _and_ bitten by hundreds of fire ants!?"

"Stung, actually," Grissom corrected. At Warrick's look, he explained, "Fire ants don't bite. They sting. It's a common misconception," he shrugged dismissively.

"Stung, bitten; it don't much matter, they were still attackin' the poor guy and he had no where to go to escape them."

"Touché," Grissom said, then held up the epi pen. "I already administered the epinephrine. I just hope it was fast enough. It's supposed to be given immediately after the sting."

Jack twitched again. "Do we have another pen in the truck?" Warrick asked.

"Maybe," Gil responded thoughtfully. "But…" he moved to shift Jack out of MacGyver's hold but the blond refused to release him. "MacGyver," he tried, his tone gentle but urgent. No response.

"What is it, Gris?"

"I think there may still be ants beneath his clothing!"

Warrick stepped closer, intending to pry MacGyver's arms from around his charge, only to have the blond growl an intense warning to stay away.

"I got this."

Warrick and Grissom looked up to see Nick nearly fall down the slope; both were relieved to see him keep his balance instead of face planting into the oak tree. Warrick took one glance at Nick's cousin, then the blond he had clearly become quite protective of over the past six hours, and he didn't even bother trying to figure out how his partner had managed to work past a no doubt serious concussion to make his way down here.

Jack Dalton was family; and MacGyver was very close to becoming the newest member. 'Nuff said.

Grissom stepped aside, and he and Warrick watched as Nick ignored the second growled protest, resolutely invading the kid's personal space and crouching down in front of him to frame the pale face between both his hands. "Mac!" he said firmly. "You need to let him go, buddy."

The panicked blue eyes finally took in his presence. Mac shook his head, unknowingly freeing one tear with the jerked movement. Nick caught the tear with the pad of his thumb but the kid still didn't seem to notice— _He's in some serious shock,_ Nick thought to himself. Offering up a sad smile, he said, "There might still be ants on him, man."

Mac looked down at Jack, then back at Nick, gauging his honesty.

"Just let my friends take a look at him, okay?" Nick pleaded softly.

As soon as Mac nodded, Grissom and Warrick stepped forward again. Grissom took hold of Jack's legs, while Warrick gripped him beneath his arms; together, they lifted him out of MacGyver's embrace.

Even though he'd agreed, Mac still reached out for his friend, a choked sob escaping him as they moved his partner several feet away.

Unable to keep his balance any longer, Nick plopped back onto his rear, then pulled Mac back to rest against his chest. He wrapped his arms around the slender form, trying to offer as much comfort as he could while the other two CSI's worked Jack's clothes off him, swiping at the lingering, angry fire ants as soon as they became visible.

Once they were done, Grissom returned to their Denali for a large blanket then rushed back and helped Warrick wrap it around a traumatized Jack Dalton. Warrick then folded him over his shoulders and carried him up to the road.

No encouragement was needed to get Mac to follow. He only paused for a moment to look down at the young woman on the ground, before making his way up the slope.

Grissom helped Nick to his feet, keeping one arm around his back, and his free hand against his chest as they followed.

Watching as Warrick administered a second epi pen to Jack, Grissom sat Nick down in the front passenger seat of Warrick's truck, wrapping a blanket over his shoulders. Warrick did the same with MacGyver. Then Grissom called police from the next town over to come guard the scene.

The original plan was for Warrick to take Nick, Jack, and MacGyver in his truck so that the three men could get medical attention as soon as possible; meanwhile, Grissom would stay behind and use Nick's truck to return with the young woman's body after the scene was secured.

However, the woman in question had been determined that no one be able to escape her clutches, because she'd rendered Nick's truck inoperable by tearing out the spark plugs _and_ slashing all four tires. Apparently, she had lived by the credo ' _Go big, or go home'_.

While Grissom and Warrick were deciding on which of them would stay behind to wait for the local uni's, a patrol car pulled up beside them. The cop explained he'd been just around the corner at a speed trap, so he was able to get there before his colleagues.

So, Warrick laid the young woman's body in the back-storage compartment of his SUV, placing a blanket over top to keep the view from haunting MacGyver who was insistent on staying in the backseat with his partner and could easily see the storage area from his position.

Not wanting to leave Nick on his own, either, Grissom took up residence in the second row of seats. Sensing what his mentor was up to, Nick's pride had him trying to resist Warrick's efforts to maneuver him from the front to the second row.

His fumbling movements did little to encumber Warrick's more solid strength, though, and Nick soon found himself sitting next to Grissom. His gaze shifted to the seat behind them, falling on Jack who was still twitching and murmuring nonsensical words in MacGyver's arms. He'd been able to compartmentalize his pain at seeing his cousin in so much agony, a trained skill he had learned from years of practice.

But his concussion had those buried emotions hovering very close to the surface, and he could feel the sting of tears in his eyes. A warm hand suddenly cupped his jaw, urging his gaze away from the view in the back and onto Grissom. The compassion in the other man's eyes nearly broke him. "He's going to be okay, Nick."

Not trusting his voice in that moment, Nick simply nodded with a confidence he didn't feel…

And Grissom saw right through it. His grip moved to the back of Nick's neck and, being extra careful of the wound on his scalp, he began to tug him across the bench seat. The younger investigator's eyes darted to MacGyver in the row behind them, whose laser focus was on Jack in that moment; then he glanced into the front seat to see Warrick was concentrating intently on the road ahead of him. Possibly too intently; as if he _knew_ what was happening, without even looking.

Nick felt another tug forward. He locked eyes with Grissom, resisting the pull with all the energy he had left, jaw muscle pulsing in his determination to keep the tears at bay. Grissom was like a father to him; if he leaned into the comfort the other man was offering, he'd lose all control over the emotions swirling inside him. They'd found Jack in time. Nick should be _happy_! Why wasn't he _happy?_

He continued to resist Grissom's pull but he was still weak and a little dizzy from the hit to the head. Then Grissom moved forward, slipping his arms around Nick's shoulders and back, holding him tight. The younger CSI was dismayed to find his own arms tangled up in the blanket which was still wrapped tightly over his shoulders, leaving with no mode of defense as Grissom leaned back against the door, not letting go of Nick for a moment. Before Nick knew what was happening, he was curled up on the seat with his face buried in Grissom's chest and shoulder.

"He's gonna be okay, Nick," Grissom whispered. He left the ' _I'm concerned about_ _you_ _'_ unsaid, but Nick heard it anyway. And that concern is what finally made it through his defenses, as the first tears came free and he shook silently in his mentor's arms.

Grissom and Warrick exchanged knowing glances in the rearview mirror. Of all the team, Nick was the most sensitive and empathetic, but over the years, he had grown ashamed of his tenderness, and these days always strove to bury his emotions down deep until he could deal with them in private. But, sometimes, a compassionate shoulder was needed to make the healing process complete.

TBC

 _A/N 2 Next chapter is written, just needs to be beta'd. Hopefully will be posted tonight or tomorrow morning. :-) LOTS of Mac &Jack h/c!_


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N Again, special thanks to fanotheboyz for her willingness to read this over for me! WARNING: There be ants in this here chapter. About halfway down the page. Only lasts a couple paragraphs but if you're afraid of insects, you may want to skip that part... I certainly got the heeby-jeebies writing it, that's for sure!_

 **CHAPTER TWELVE**

MacGyver sat in the hospital room, his own posture more rigid than the hard-backed chair he was currently occupying. His blue gaze was locked onto his partner, afraid that, should he waver from his steadfast guard duty, Jack would disappear again.

Still, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop his mind from rewinding back to the moment he killed the once love of his life, Nikki Carpenter. He didn't regret it. How could he? If he hadn't fired first, Jack would be the one who was dead. And that would have been far worse.

When had Mac become such a danger to be around, anyway?

He called Bozer to let him know what was happening, in broad strokes, of course; and to ask him about Riley—not to mention, to tell him not to go home until Phoenix could have an EOD team do a thorough examination of the house, _and_ Bozer's car, just to be safe. Mac wouldn't put it past Nikki to have mentioned the house as a misdirect, only to have rigged his roommate's car to explode instead.

On the upside, Riley was out of surgery but she hadn't regained consciousness yet. According to Bozer, the doctors were 'carefully optimistic'. Which, to Mac's current state of mind, meant 'it could go either way'.

Once Bozer started homing in on Mac's emotional well-being, however, Mac had promptly ended the call, simply requesting his friend let him know when there was any news on Riley.

Nick was in his own hospital room, recovering from the concussion Nikki had been kind enough to give him.

Which left MacGyver there. In that room. Alone. Staring at his too-still best friend in the hospital bed a few feet away. All because of him.

Mac didn't want company right now, that was for certain. But he wouldn't mind a bit of a distraction from the documentaries currently on replay in his mind. Sometimes perfect recall sucked big time.

Sudden movement from the bed proved to be a distraction, but not the kind he'd been hoping for.

Jack had stopped twitching once they'd gotten him to the ER and the doctors had given him the necessary medications to fight the poison in his system, then the sedatives to give his _mind_ a chance to recover.

But now he was twitching again, scratching at his arms in his sleep. Mac got up to press the call-button to get a nurse to give his friend some additional sedatives. But just as he reached for the button, he saw the tear streaming down Jack's cheek and onto the pillow.

Mac knew from personal experience how sedatives didn't erase the dreams; they only made it near impossible to wake yourself up from them. He tried to think what Jack would do in this instance. It didn't take long to figure it out, but Mac wasn't sure it would help.

The time on the plane after the Cordoba incident, when Mac had woken up to find himself snuggled up into Jack's side, crying in his sleep, well, he'd never admit it aloud, but he knew that the reason he had gravitated to Jack was because even his subconscious knew—Jack equalled safety.

Mac couldn't mean the same thing to Jack. Not after the past 12 hours. But, still, he couldn't just stand by while his best friend was trapped in his own nightmare. Another tear created a trail down Jack's face and that made Mac's decision for him.

He kicked off his shoes and sat down on the edge of the bed… then hesitated again, this time for selfish reasons.

It was true that another rejection from Jack scared him. But, what scared him almost as much was his friend welcoming him, drawing him in, possibly slipping past Mac's defenses without even realizing it.

Then Jack said his name, tone pleading. Mac whipped around to face him, certain that his partner had finally regained consciousness and would be gazing up at him. But, no. The brown eyes were still closed, denying any entrance from the waking world… any _visual_ entrance, anyway.

Shoving his own discomfort aside, Mac slid his butt up along the edge of the bed, until his back was pressed up against the pillow. Since the head of the bed was at a 45-degree angle, it was fairly simple for Mac to slip his arm beneath the broad shoulders and ease his friend over until the close-cropped hair was brushing against the underside of Mac's jaw, cheek pressed against his chest.

For the first minute or so, Jack struggled against the hold, which was what Mac had feared. But then he nestled into MacGyver's side and the strong arms wrapped around his torso, pulling him even closer. But the most important thing was the fact that Jack's nightmare seemed to have stopped. So, Mac grit his teeth against the torrent of emotions threatening to overflow, and stayed exactly where he was. If Jack needed him, if just being there helped, then that was what Mac was going to do.

It was the very least he could do after everything that had happened.

Mac woke with a gasp! He looked around the room, confused. Where was he? Then he felt movement beside him, and looked down to see Jack Dalton staring up at him in wonder.

In light of the nightmare he'd been having just seconds before, Mac had to force a smile as he said, "Hey, stranger. How are you feeling?"

The brown eyes blinked sluggishly. "This a dream?"

MacGyver's smile became more real then. "No, man. It's not a dream. We got you out."

Jack's relief was palpable, tears even forming in his eyes, accepting Mac's word for the truth, no questions asked. And that knowledge tore at the blond genius' heart.

"We?" Jack asked.

"Yeah," Mac began, trying to gently extricate himself from Jack's hold and failing. "I met up with your cousin. Nick Stokes?"

"Poncho?"

That confused MacGyver but he went with it. "Uh, yeah, I guess so. He's got a room just down the hall." Seeing the alarm register on his friend's face, Mac quickly added, "Concussion. Doctors say he'll be fine, though." He wanted to tell Jack about Riley, too, but couldn't bring himself to brave that storm just yet. He wasn't sure Jack would ever be able to forgive him for that one. He didn't know if he was going to be able to forgive _himself_.

"What about you?" Jack asked, words becoming more clear. "You okay?"

"Don't I look okay?"

Jack peered up at him then, studying him. Mac had to fight not to squirm under the scrutiny and forced himself to maintain eye contact.

"Man," Jack finally said, "they must be givin' me the good stuff cuz I can barely see straight."

MacGyver sighed with relief, because he didn't really know _what_ he looked like in that moment. What he did know was that he had to get free, the last thing he needed was to be hugged just then. It was okay while Jack needed it, but he seemed to be okay now, so—he motioned to Jack's arms around his torso. "Uh, could you…?"

Following Mac's line of sight, Jack appeared to not even realize he was still holding onto him. "Oh, uh, sorry, bud," he said, instantly releasing him. "Seriously, though, are you okay?"

"Of course," Mac lied, counting on the drugs in his partner's system to block the Mac-radar the man seemed to have. He offered up a shaky smile as if to prove his words, then quickly moved from the bed and back to the chair. "So, Poncho? Is that a nickname or something?"

Jack smirked. "Yeah, his dad used to call him that, and it just kinda stuck."

"His dad nicknamed him 'Poncho'," Mac deadpanned. "What kind of nickname is that?"

"Hey," Jack said, suddenly remembering as the drugs continued to dissipate from his system. "How did it go with your dad? I mean, I know the visit kinda got interrupted, but before that, did you guys get reacquainted and stuff?"

"Must've been some dream," Mac said, blatantly changing the subject because that was another conversation he was _so_ not ready for. "Do you, uh, want to talk about it?" he winced at the realization that he was avoiding a personal conversation by asking Jack if he wanted to talk about something that was probably equally personal to him.

"Nah," Jack said, scrubbing a hand down his face. "I'm good."

Mac hesitated, staring down at his hands, wishing desperately that he had a paperclip. This wasn't fair; Jack deserved to know the truth about what happened. He deserved to know _why_ it happened. "Jack, I'm—"

Whatever Mac was about to say got cut off by a nurse suddenly coming into the room. Mac stood to greet her and Jack watched as she handed the kid two plastic bags full of various items. The first was about the size of a grocery bag, containing a pair of neatly folded jeans, and a sweater and jacket that Jack found vaguely familiar. The second was the size of a large Ziplock baggy, and from what Jack could see, there was a wallet, a lady's watch, a small black address book.

The nurse's smile was kind as she explained to Mac, "You asked for us to give you Miss Carpenter's personal effects, remember, sweetie?"

Jack's jaw dropped as he stared at his young partner's back. _Carpenter? Nikki Carpenter? What the heck happened while he was in that coffin?_

Concerned by the kid's silence, probably seeing something in his eyes, the nurse reached for the bag again. "I'm sorry, hun. I thought—"

Mac pulled the bag out of her reach. "No, uh, no, it's okay. Thank—" his voice broke. After clearing his throat, he tried again. "Thank you," he said on a whisper.

The nurse reached up and placed a comforting hand on his arm, then turned on her heel and left the room.

"Mac, man, what happened? Our Nikki? _Your_ Nikki?"

The blond head nodded yes but no sound came with the motion, and when the kid turned around, his mask was firmly in place.

"What happened?" Jack watched as Mac started pulling items out of the bag; a folded up photo fell out of the address book. Mac squatted down to pick it up and just sort of froze. The continuing silence was disturbing. "Mac? Hey, kiddo, you're scarin' me here."

Jack threw back the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, frustrated with having to be careful not to dislodge the IV currently sticking out of the back of his hand. Man, he hated hospitals. His legs were a little shaky, but he managed to get close enough to touch Mac's shoulder.

It was like touching a live wire! Mac jumped out from under his hand, standing suddenly and darting a few feet away. "D-Don't," he stammered. "Jus-just… don't."

"Don't, what?"

"Don't touch me," Mac told him. "Please, just… not right now."

Jack's gaze found the photo clutched tightly in the kid's hand and slowly reached for it, only to have Mac step even farther away, backing towards the door.

"I'm sorry, Jack," the kid said, a brokenness in his eyes that Jack had never seen before. Not in those blue orbs, anyway. "I need to, uh…" he cleared his throat again. "I need to go."

"No, Mac, wait! Whatever it is, we can—" and just like that, the kid was out the door and gone. "Deal with it together," Jack finished to the now empty room.

Mac pulled up in front of the decrepit warehouse, and stared up at the broken windows and discoloured wood. He turned off the engine but didn't get out of the GTO right away. He needed to pull himself together if this plan was going to work.

He laughed bitterly at himself. Who was he kidding? What he had in mind wasn't a plan so much as a last-ditch effort to save someone he loved.

His phone rang. Again. He glanced down at the caller ID. Blocked. Taking a deep breath, he accepted the call and put the phone to his ear.

 _"Didn't anyone ever teach you, it's not polite to stare?"_

"Where is she, Murdoc?"

 _"Oh, MacGyver, you're no fun at all."_ There was a long pause. Apparently, realizing that Mac wasn't going to play this particular game, Murdoc breathed out a huff. _"Fine. She's on the second floor. Third door on the right. Oh, and MacGyver? Leave the phone in the car."_ Then he disconnected the call.

Mac set his phone down on the passenger seat, eyeing the photo laying next to it. "Second floor, third door on the right," he said softly.

" _Got it,_ " Warrick said through the comm.

Leaving the phone behind as ordered, Mac opened the driver's side door and stepped out into the desert heat. He knew not to glance down the street at the vehicle parked five car lengths away from the GTO. He just had to trust that Warrick was sticking to the plan.

Part of MacGyver had wanted to tackle this on his own but he couldn't do that when another life was on the line. The life of someone he loved. So, he'd called the only other people he knew in town. Nick's team.

"Just remember," Mac said quietly, being sure to keep his lips from moving too much, because Murdoc **loved** to watch. "No one makes a move until I know she's safe."

" _We hear you,_ " Warrick said.

" _You've got the lead on this,_ " Catherine added. " _Just know that we've got your back."_

"Yeah," Mac said, appreciating the sentiment but knowing full-well that he'd feel much safer if it was _Jack_ who was watching his back. The way it should be.

Jack was sitting on his bed, worrying about Mac and the look he'd seen in the kid's eyes. What had been in that photo? Only a few minutes had passed since MacGyver had raced out of there, but it felt like so much longer.

Then Jack's gaze took in the walls on either side of him, the ceiling above him. He startled when it seemed like the walls shifted, moving closer to him. A moment later, the ceiling did the same. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the sensation to go away.

A mild itch drew his attention to the back of his left hand, where the IV needle was attached. He opened his eyes and peered down at the tape helping to hold the needle in place, his head cocked to the side. The tape appeared to be moving.

Feeling much like the poor girl at the top of the basement stairs reaching out to open the door, ignoring the pleas and warnings of the audience on the other side of the movie screen, telling her " _don't_ _open the door!",_ Jack eased the tape back from his hand, watching with a peculiar fascination as his skin pulled with the adhesive, stretching and contorting…

He bit back a cry of alarm as a fire ant crawled out from beneath the IV needle. It had to wiggle to get free when its hind quarters got stuck between Jack's flesh and certain freedom. As soon as it freed itself, it was like the dam opened! Hundreds of its kin followed the ant through the tiny opening in Jack's skin, flowing across his flesh like a single entity—up his arms, down his legs, across his torso. He slapped at them, tried to kill them, to swipe them off and onto the floor, to _get them OFF!_ But nothing seemed to work!

The IV needle was pushed out by the sheer force of the swarm. Sounds were amplified, actions in slow motion, as the needle fell to the floor with an echoing clank.

The ants were on his face now, stinging him ferociously. He cried out in pain and fear, shaking uncontrollably.

" _Jack! Wake up!"_

His eyes snapped open and he woke with a shout! He started scratching at his flesh, dismayed to hear the whimper escape as he searched for the small, yet violent creatures on his arms, on the nightgown covering his chest and stomach. His hands went to his face, scratching at his eyes now.

 _He could still feel them crawling all over him!_

"Jack!"

He recognized the voice but couldn't quite place it, besides he had more important things to worry about! Ants. Ants. _ANTS!_

Someone grabbed him by the wrists, criss-crossing his arms over his chest, then pressing down, _immobilizing_ him! He struggled with all his might, bucking and arching off the bed, growling curse words his mother would have been mortified to hear coming out of his mouth!

"JACK!"

A face swam into his line of sight, moving down until they were practically nose to nose. And it was suddenly as if he was looking into a time portal, seeing the face of Jack Dalton from yester-year! He forced himself to take several long, deep breaths. Then looked up into the warm, concerned brown eyes staring down at him. "P-Poncho?"

The half grin and chuckle he got in return told him he wasn't imagining things. "Yeah, Cuz, it's me."

Nick still had a hold of his cousin's wrists, and he was stretched out on top of him from hip to shoulder, trying to hold him down to keep him from hurting himself any further. Blood continued to seep from the torn flesh where the IV needle had been secure up until a few moments earlier.

He watched as his usually unflappable cousin seemed to calm, the panic slowly dissipating from his eyes. "You good?" he asked, just to be safe.

The fact that Jack took a moment to assess himself, made his nod of confirmation that much more believable. Nick gave the wrists a brief, reassuring squeeze before releasing his cousin and removing his weight from the somewhat broader chest.

As he slowly came back to himself, Jack's eyes darted about the room in apprehension, before settling back on Nick. "Where's Mac?"

"I don't know, to be honest. I expected to find him here but instead found you in the middle of tearing your IV out and tossing it to the floor," Nick admonished, taking some gauze from a nearby supply cart in the hall and returning to place it on the bleeding wound. "Hold that there," he ordered gently, waiting until Jack's hand replaced his to hold the gauze in place.

"You didn't call the nurse?" Jack asked sheepishly.

The CSI shrugged with one shoulder. "Figured you wouldn't want an audience," he smirked. "Besides, all they'd likely do is give you more sedatives, which would just trap you even more securely in the nightmare." Nick paused to study his cousin thoughtfully. "It looked pretty bad. You wanna talk about it?"

Jack cleared his throat. Subject closed. Nick wasn't surprised. He also wasn't surprised when all focus was turned onto him as Jack's now fully aware gaze began studying _him_. "What?"

"Mac told me you got a concussion?"

"Yeah, courtesy of some lady by the name of Nikki Carpenter." He saw Jack tense, jaw muscle pulsing rapidly.

"Used to be Mac's girl," Jack told him.

Nick felt a little weak all of a sudden. He reached behind him for the hard-backed chair he had pushed aside in his haste to get to Jack just moments earlier. "That explains a lot," he said, scrubbing his hand down his face.

"Like what?" Jack asked him. "I know, Nikki died but that's all I know. Mac took off outta here like a skittish horse who just saw a rattler before I could get any more details out of him."

The CSI's gaze softened even further, and Jack got the distinct feeling he was _not_ going to like what his cousin had to say.

"Maybe I should start at the beginning," Nick said haltingly.

As Mac made his way up the stairs, he eyed the inside of the warehouse with practiced skill. He could see two, no, three cameras not quite hidden in the rafters. Also interspersed throughout, were small block boxes, about two feet in diameter. Knowing Murdoc, those were speakers.

A voyeur who loved the sound of his own voice. Not a pleasant combination.

Ignoring the electronics for the time being, Mac's gaze returned to his feet—or more specifically, to the things his feet could encounter… like trip wire, pressure plates, the usual fare for an EOD specialist to be on the lookout for.

Nothing on the stairs. At the top, the corridor stretched only to the left, venturing further into the warehouse. He stopped at the third door on the right. In his mind's eye, he could see the photo of Frankie, bound to a chair, fearful gaze locked on the camera, split lip and black eye.

Still, despite the fear in her eyes, there was a strong undercurrent of defiance and strength. A determination much like the one Mac remembered seeing so often during their experiments at MIT when the evidence didn't seem to support the hypothesis. Except this determination was to stay alive at all costs.

He reached out for the doorknob but stopped suddenly. In his haste to get to his friend, he almost forgot about Pena's number one rule— _see the bigger picture._ Mac knew, in that moment, he was getting emotional about the situation, which could very well be blinding him to Murdoc's true motivation.

Frankie was inside this room. She'd been alive yesterday; the newspaper she was holding in the picture was proof of that. But Mac had no idea what kind of condition she was in today, in this very moment. She could be hurt, or worse, she could be dying.

He didn't even want to entertain the idea of what could be even worse than all that… the possibility that she was already dead giving Mac no chance at all of saving her.

"Wait a minute," Jack said, feeling like his blood was boiling in his veins. "Murdoc made Mac _watch_ him kill his dad, while he _listened_ to the kid's agony."

Nick nodded sadly. "I tried to be there for him, Cuz, but Mac just…"

"Shoved it down deep where no one could see or hear his pain," Jack finished for him. "Yeah, that kid can compartmentalize like nobody's business."

"You sure he isn't your kid?" Nick drawled, offering up a lazy, half smile.

"Shut up," Jack said lightly. Then his gaze turned serious. "But, if I were to be honest? I would be honoured, _honoured,_ to call that kid my son."

"I know you would," Nick said.

"What else happened while I was… indisposed?"

"Shortly after he got the live video feed of you in that coffin, he got a phone call from some guy named… Bozer?"

"Yeah, that's his best friend and roommate," Jack supplied.

Nick arched a brow. "Best friend? I beg to differ," he argued. "Then again, I guess you can't bear the title of father-figure, big brother, _and_ best friend. Besides, I know from personal experience that when you employ the first two roles, the third is automatically included in the job description." At Jack's look of confusion, Nick explained, "Just because you don't hold the specific title of 'best friend', doesn't mean you don't execute the duties like no one else possibly could."

"Dude, sometimes you an' Mac are a lot alike. Usin' a whole lotta words to explain somethin' that your tone indicates is one simple concept."

"All I'm sayin' is, I know my dad loves me, but he was always at work while I was growin' up. He and mom never had any more kids after me — "

"Can you blame 'em?" Jack teased.

Nick rolled his eyes, knowing that Jack was feeling uncomfortable with all the talk about their past, likely instinctually knowing where Nick was headed with that particular topic. "And, I was bullied so much as a kid for my love of science, I never really had a best friend. You somehow managed to fill all three roles with what seemed like very little effort."

"Whatever," Jack said dismissively.

"I'm tellin' ya, man, whenever Mac talks about you, I see myself fifteen years ago, when the one constant in my life was suddenly shipped overseas to fight the war on terrorism."

Jack saw the sincerity in his cousin's gaze, and blushed despite himself. "What did Bozer say when he called?" he asked, wanting to take the focus off himself but also sensing this information was somehow vitally important. His cousin's hesitation told him that his assumptions were correct.

"One of your team, Riley Davis…"

Jack sat up straighter in the bed, hackles rising. "What happened to Riley?"

"She was in a car accident," Nick told him gently, stepping back from the bed in surprise when his cousin threw the covers off and swung his legs over the edge. "It was a hit and run," he went on, grabbing a hold of Jack's arm to steady him when he started to sway on his feet. Understandable, really, considering everything he'd been through. "Last I heard, she got out of surgery but she hasn't regained consciousness yet."

"Where's my phone?" Jack asked anxiously, needing desperately to make a call back to L.A.

Nick took him by the shoulders and maneuvered his cousin back onto the edge of the mattress before moving over to the clothes closet at the opposite side of the room. "I know she's a team member, and clearly a friend, but I'm getting a deeper vibe from you."

"Mac is like a son to me; Riley is like a daughter—truth be told, she almost _was_ my daughter 12 years ago. Probably woulda been if I hadn't been so stupid."

"Wait a minute. She's _that_ Riley. Diane's daughter?"

"One and the same. Any luck findin' my phone?" he asked, starting to stand up again.

"Just relax for a minute, will you, please? I don't wanna have to lift your sorry behind up off the floor!" Realizing that Mac had been the last one to have Jack's cell phone, Nick changed direction and headed for the bedside table, figuring the kid would've left the device there so Jack would be able to reach it easily. Sure enough, he found it in the drawer and handed it to his cousin. Watching with concern, as Jack hurriedly turned it on, entered his passcode, and tapped a name in his contacts on the screen.

"Talk to me, Boze," Jack said into the phone a moment later.

After confirming there were no explosives blocking his entrance, Mac finally opened the door. Sitting at the other side of the room, with her back to MacGyver, was a dark-haired woman. At least, Mac assumed it was a woman. It could even be Frankie, but he couldn't be sure until he saw her face.

Intending to do just that, he stepped further into the room, wincing when the floorboard creaked beneath his weight.

The dark-haired woman lifted her head at the sound. "Mac? Is that you?"

He'd recognize that voice anywhere. _Frankie!_ "Yeah, Frankie, it's me. Don't worry, I'm gonna get you out of here. Just sit tight, okay?"

Taking another step forward, he heard a CLICK.

"Mac?—"

BOOM!

TBC

 _A/N No cliffie this time! Posting the next chapter momentarily, this just seemed like a natural ending for this one. :-)_


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N Okay, this is kind of an intense chapter, guys. Just sayin'. LOTS of h/c, as promised. But seriously_ _ **intense**_ _h/c. At least it was for me when I wrote it. I'll let you all be the judge. ;-) Either way, I hope you enjoy! Thank you, fanotheboyz for reading this over for me! :-D_

 **CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

Mac was thrown backwards from the blast, slamming into the wall behind him. He staggered to his feet, staring in horror at the charred floor where Frankie had been sitting just seconds earlier! He felt the rage build up inside him but, knowing that Murdoc was once again listening, Mac simply fell to his knees, bottling up the scream that was threatening to escape!

Gritting his teeth, digging his fingernails into his palms, he shook with the effort to keep everything safely buried.

" _Come now, MacGyver! I went through so much trouble to make all this happen. Don't I, at least, deserve an agonized scream? Perhaps a tear streaming down your cheek?"_

" _Archie almost has the trace locked, Mac,_ " Catherine said softly through the comm. " _Just another minute."_

His breathing was ragged even to his own ears as he fought for control.

" _Look up at the camera,_ " Murdoc taunted. " _I'll even let you catch me and put me back in prison, if you just let me see the devastation in your eyes, MacGyver."_

"No, you won't," Mac forced out on a breath.

Murdoc laughed. " _You know me too well, MacGyver. You're right. I won't. But, come on, for old time's sake, just one little peek?_ "

In response, Mac squeezed his eyes shut, keeping his head downcast so that Murdoc would not be privy to any of his pain.

" _Now, I have successfully killed every. Single. Person. You care about. Well, except for Riley and Bozer, but that's just a matter of time now. Even if Riley pulls through the operation, I still have contacts in L.A. who would be more than willing to deliver some flowers on my behalf—maybe inserting a little air bubble into her IV while they're there; you know, to make the trip worth it 'n all. And Bozer? Well, you know, he has to go home sometime._ "

Through all Murdoc's goading, and his own anguish, MacGyver mentally sorted through the murk and came to a realization… Murdoc didn't know that Jack had been rescued. But, how could he not know? They had kept the story out of the news in true Phoenix fashion, but he must have been watching the video feed. Right?

Then again, Murdoc hadn't been the one to show up when they dug up the coffin. Nikki had. _She'd been the one monitoring the video?_ Once again, Mac's heart stuttered over the memory of shooting Nikki. But there was no time for that now. Shoving his emotions even further down than he'd ever done before, Mac finally looked up at the camera. However, the expression on his face was not the one Murdoc would have been expecting.

" _Why are you smiling?_ " the sociopath asked. Then he giggled. " _Have you finally lost it, MacGyver? Are you completely and utterly broken?_ "

"Jack's not dead," Mac said simply, only allowing Murdoc access to see the true joy he felt at knowing his best friend had not been one of Murdoc's victims.

A long pause was the only response he received. "Have you lost it, Murdoc?" MacGyver asked, returning the taunt in an epic home run hit. "Oh, wait, that happened a long, long time ago, didn't it?"

" _You're lying,"_ Murdoc insisted petulantly. " _Jack has to be—!_ "

The statement was cut off by muffled action in the background. A few expletive curses from Murdoc made it through the speakers.

" _We got him,_ " Warrick declared over the comm two minutes later. " _He's in cuffs and being carted back to prison as we speak, MacGyver. Good job, man._ "

Mac tuned him out as soon as he heard 'We got him', pulling into himself where it was quiet. Safe. Private.

Jack reached into the duffel of clean clothes, no doubt provided by MacGyver, and extracted a pair of black jeans and matching t-shirt. Bozer told him Riley had finally woken up and had even asked for her rig to be brought to her; kicked up a fuss when the doctors and nurses objected, too. That alone told Jack that she was gonna be just fine. He smiled lopsidedly at the fact that the hospital staff had no idea who they were dealin' with, if they thought they were gonna be able to keep that girl away from her laptop.

Nick watched his cousin pull the jeans up over his boxers, grinning softly at the fact that he had kept his go-to fashion sense after all these years. Then the CSI quickly sobered. "There's more, Jack."

"I know, I'm listenin', but I also wanna be ready to go as soon as the doctors release me."

"Who says they're going to?"

"I do," Jack told him firmly.

"Fair enough," Nick said, using a phrase he likely got from his cousin all those years ago. "I did my best to get him to eat, mostly by guilting him into it, to be honest."

Jack nodded. "Most of the time, a little bit of creativity is needed to get that kid to take care of himself."

"Tell me about it. Sleep is another matter, though. Short of sittin' on him, I couldn't force him to get some sleep."

"Yeah, because he bottles so much up, it tends to leak out into his dreams, causing some pretty messed up nightmares from what I can tell. He does his best to avoid sleep when he's under this kind of pressure." He cut his eyes to his cousin as he removed the hospital gown and slipped his t-shirt over his head. "You're leadin' up to some major occurrence here. So? Out with it."

"You said that you know Nikki Carpenter is dead."

"Yeah. Did Murdoc kill her, too?" Jack asked, saying aloud the only thing he could think of that could have resulted in her death. _Man, Mac must be devastated._

"No," Nick told him, matter-of-factly. Knowing now that the young woman had been MacGyver's girl made this revelation all that much more difficult to make. "Mac did."

The whole ride back to the hotel, Jack couldn't stop thinking about the poor kid who had been through so much in such a short amount of time. "You're sure, he's at the hotel?" he asked.

"That's where Warrick and Catherine dropped him off after…" Nick's voice trailed off as he pulled up in front of the hotel entrance.

 _Poor Frankie,_ Jack thought grimly. This time, her death was for real and, with everything else that had happened, his blond genius was likely to be a broken mess. On the inside, at least. Because Jack had absolutely no doubt that Mac had already slid his 'I'm fine' mask firmly into place… a skill the kid was quite adept at; mind you, Jack had his own skills—including a well-honed one that enabled him to see past any mask his young partner chose to don.

Nick followed Jack into the lobby, trying to figure out how to break one more thing to him. He had to know everything in order to get through to MacGyver, but this was going to seriously break his cousin's heart.

Jack gave him a quick one-armed hug. "Thanks for takin' care of my boy, Poncho," he said, ruffling Nick's short hair with one hand.

Blushing, Nick said, "I wish you'd stop calling me that."

"Never gonna happen," Jack said, offering up a soft grin because that was all he felt capable of giving, then turned to trot over to the elevators.

"Jack, wait," Nick said suddenly, realizing that his time had run out. He couldn't put it off any longer. Waiting for his cousin to turn back to face him, he said, "There's something I haven't told you yet."

"Aw, man, what else did Murdoc do?"

"This one wasn't Murdoc," Nick told him gently. "At least, not directly."

"Then, who?" Jack demanded, impatiently. He _needed_ to get to Mac. "Nikki?"

"No. You."

"Me!?" Jack exclaimed, heatedly, taking a step toward his cousin, fists clenched at his sides. "I would never, _never_ hurt that kid!"

"Not in your right mind, no. But, when we first got you out of that coffin, uh… Mac hugged you, and you…"

"I pulled away," Jack muttered, dragging a hand down his face as the fragmented memory came crashing down on him. Then he said a string of words that would've made _both_ their mother's blush. "I was messed up, man. After being in that cramped space for all that time, I woulda pushed away one of Hef's Playboy bunnies!"

"Don't tell _me_ ," Nick said, pointing to the elevators.

"Right, yeah," Jack said, turning back for the elevators again.

He had a broken partner to find.

Jack stepped off the elevator, pulling his room key out of the front pocket of his jeans. The sound of a door closing brought his gaze up and, lo' and behold, there was the object of his search standing just a dozen or so feet away.

Further inspection had Jack's brow arching. Mac was carrying his duffel bag in one hand. The kid was so exhausted, he hadn't even noticed Jack's presence yet. So, taking full advantage of the situation, the former Delta Commando darted behind the closest corner at the intersection of the two hallways which created a sort of elevator alcove. Then he leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, a forced casual in his posture.

He watched Mac step past him and press the Down button to call an elevator. "Goin' somewhere?" Jack asked.

MacGyver literally jumped, then spun around to face the source of the voice. "Jack!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing out of the hospital?"

"They had to release me sometime, didn't they?"

"AMA?" Mac asked, sudden doubt eating up the alarm in his gaze.

"Nope," Jack grinned. "Got the doc's approval and everything!" He didn't see any reason to mention the decision was made under threat of bodily harm.

"Uh-huh. Under duress?" MacGyver returned, deadpan.

Jack cocked his head to the side in confusion, then understanding seemed to dawn. "Nah, man. My nurse was the equivalent of Nurse Ratchet—besides, even the pretty ones wear those surgical scrub pants now," he lamented. "Dang shame, if you ask me."

"That's not what I—" Mac shook his head, his lips quirking up into an almost smile as he and Jack seemed to drop into their usual banter… then fell again when he remembered nothing would ever be the same again. The elevator _pinged_ to indicate its arrival. "Never mind," Mac finally said, preparing to enter the elevator as the doors slid open, only to be stopped by a firm hand on his elbow.

"You never answered my question," Jack said.

MacGyver stared at him, clearly drawing a blank. And, if that wasn't a sure sign of the kid's exhaustion, Jack didn't know what was.

"Where ya' goin'?" he asked.

"Home," Mac told him, an unmistakeable 'duh' tacked onto the end. He tried to tug free of Jack's hold but the grip was unyielding.

"Without me?"

"I'm leaving the GTO in the valet parking. I have a plane ticket booked—"

"Right, because the _car_ is what I'm concerned about here."

"I have a plane to catch—" Mac started, watching with dismay as the doors slid closed again.

"Uh, no," Jack told him, hauling him back toward the room. "You really don't. We got some things to talk about, brother."

"I've got nothing to say," Mac insisted, hating that it seemed so easy for him to be just dragged down the hall against his will.

"Then I'll talk and you'll listen," Jack countered.

"Jack, just… just stop!" The blond finally managed to get some leverage and yanked his arm free. He stared his friend down defiantly.

"Bud," Jack said, his Delta Commando tone coming out to play for the first time in a long while. "Drunk or sober, I've already proven to you that I can throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to the room if I want to."

"Jack—" Mac warned, raising one hand and taking a step back in an effort to ward off any such attempt.

"Look, kid, Nick told me everything that happened…" Mac opened his mouth to respond, but Jack held up a hand to stop him. "Including what I did—or _didn't_ do—when you rescued me."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the blond mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and avoiding any and all eye contact.

"You were relieved that I was alive, and I pushed you away. I'm sorry, bud," Jack said, sincerely. "I was just messed up, man. Being in that friggin' box for so long; then the ants; I just…" Suddenly, Jack was back in the coffin, unable to escape as hundreds of fire ants stung him over, and over, and—

"Jack!"

Jack jolted back to the present. Mac's hands were on his shoulders. The kid was leaning in close, and part of Jack wanted to extricate himself from the hold, but that kind of knee-jerk reaction had caused enough problems already. Thankfully, a few deep breaths dissolved the instinct.

He stared into the concerned blue eyes of the kid who meant more to him than anyone else in the world, and instinctually knew that, if he let Mac see _his_ pain, then maybe, just maybe, Mac might be more likely to do the same.

So, that's exactly what he did. Jack lowered his own defenses a bit, allowing his friend to see his pain, his vulnerability, even his fear. "Please," he all but begged. "Come back to the room?"

Startled by what he saw in the unguarded gaze, Mac pulled back a bit, but his hands remained on Jack's shoulders, unwilling to completely break the connection when his friend was making it blatantly obvious that he needed him. After everything that happened, MacGyver had no idea _why_ Jack would ever need him again, but he clearly did. At least, for now.

So, although still suspicious, Mac knew he couldn't just abandon his friend and return to L.A. "You'll do all the talking?" he asked dubiously.

Jack raised his hand in a two-fingered salute. "Scout's honour."

One corner of Mac's mouth quirked. "Scouts is a three-finger salute, Jack."

"How would you know? You got kicked out, remember?"

They both headed the rest of the way back to their room. "It wasn't for lack of skill," the blond revealed, watching Jack unlock the door. "I just tended to… improvise a little bit more than they were comfortable with."

"Now, _that_ I believe," Jack chuckled, placing a firm hand on MacGyver's shoulder and earning a flash of surprised eye contact in return. "It was their loss, man," he said sincerely, grinning when the pale cheeks tinged with pink seconds before Mac preceded him into the room.

Jack followed him in, shut the door, then turned and clicked the deadbolt into place, as well.

MacGyver cast a quizzical glance his way.

"I just don't want the cleaning crew to barge in all of a sudden, while I'm pourin' out my heart 'n soul here."

Mac visibly deflated, silently conceding the point. If their roles were reversed, and he was the one opening up, he wouldn't want an audience, either.

Stepping over to the mini-bar, Jack pulled out a couple bottles of beer. "Something cool for my throat—plus, some liquid courage," he admitted with a slight blush of his own as he handed one bottle over to his friend.

MacGyver hesitated, then accepted the beer. It wasn't going to be easy hearing what Jack went through, but he was determined to be there for his friend. This entire thing was his fault, anyway. He owed Jack so much more than just an ear to listen—this was the _least_ he could do.

So, he sat down on the edge of one bed and watched as Jack pressed his back against the opposite wall, then slid down until his butt was on the floor. With his legs drawn up almost to his chest, he held the bottle of beer loosely in one hand, allowing it to dangle between his knees.

The former Delta Commando's gaze revealed an acute unease that Mac had never seen in him before. The deep brown eyes darted from one side of the room to the other, even looking up at the ceiling with a barely repressed panic. Mac wanted to ask if he was okay, but he got the feeling an explanation was seconds away, so he waited.

"Happens every time I close my eyes, man," Jack said a moment later, taking a long gulp of beer.

Feeling like he needed the liquid courage almost as much as Jack did, Mac mirrored him, taking a swig of his own beer. "What happens?" he asked around the mouth of the bottle.

"I'm transported back into that coffin. A couple inches of space at every side, oxygen getting thinner by the minute. I'm just thankful I got someone like you in my life, brother."

"Yeah," Mac muttered with a self-deprecating laugh. "Right."

"Yeah," Jack returned, seriously; brown eyes locking with blue. "Right."

MacGyver's eyes skirted away. Needing a distraction, he took another long drink of his beer.

Sensing that an explanation was necessary, Jack continued. "Every time I started to panic, I heard you inside my head, tellin' me how, if I didn't stay calm, I'd run out of oxygen four times faster."

"To be perfectly honest," Mac admitted. "I don't know how you _didn't_ run out of oxygen."

"Every once in a while, a burst of fresh air came through the vent next to my head," Jack said with a shrug. "But it was always just when I started to pass out."

"Murdoc wanted to draw out the torture," Mac surmised bitterly.

"Yeah, well, I didn't give him the satisfaction of seein' me break," Jack growled, then his voice softened to not much more than a whisper. "Not until…"

"The ants," Mac finished for him, standing and moving over to sit next to Jack, not certain the close proximity would be welcome but needing to at least try. To his relief, when he sat down, Jack actually leaned over the remaining inch or two until their shoulders were touching, possibly taking as much comfort from Mac's presence as Mac had his before this whole debacle began and they'd been standing outside his father's door—seemed like a lifetime ago.

He bumped Jack's shoulder with his own, doing his best to keep his voice light as he said, "If it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure it was Nikki watching, not Murdoc."

Jack grimaced. "It doesn't," he bit out, before continuing quietly. "Even in a room as big as this one, I feel like the walls are closing in on me, 'n I find it hard to breathe."

MacGyver placed a tentative hand on his friend's shoulder, branching into uncharted territory all of a sudden.

"Then… I feel the… the _ants_ on me," Jack continued, voice breaking. "They were _all over me,_ man!" That's when the tears started, slow at first, then picking up speed with every passing second.

Mac's heart stuttered a bit, then seemed to drop straight into his gut. Jack had always been a sensitive guy, but the blond had never seen him break like this before.

Extending his arm awkwardly across the broad shoulders, MacGyver let instinct take over and cinched his best friend closer. Jack's head came to rest on his shoulder, and Mac could feel the warmth of the tears as they soaked through his shirt. His partner's shoulders shook beneath his grip, sobs muted but most definitely there.

When Jack calmed several minutes later, Mac could feel the sting of more than just exhaustion in his own eyes. "I'm so sorry." The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" Jack asked incredulously, scrubbing one hand over his tear dampened cheeks.

"For all of it!" Mac exclaimed, moving to stand only to be hauled back down and held in place by a stubborn former Delta Commando.

"Hold on there, bud! You have got _nothing_ to be sorry for; you hear me?"

"Come on, Jack! It's time to read the writing on the wall!"

"Yeah? And what writing is that?" Jack asked, still keeping a firm grip on Mac's arm, not giving even an inch of leeway.

Mac laughed, but there was none of the usual humour in this grating sound. "Do you really need me to spell it out for you?"

"I guess, I do, kid."

"Everything Murdoc did was to get revenge against _me_! And, my dad?" His voice broke on that part but he plowed ahead because Jack needed to _see_ who was to blame! "My dad only agreed to his part in the whole thing because, in his own misguided way, he thought he was protecting, yup, you guessed it— _me_! Frankie… " he said, voice breaking again, "Frankie wouldn't have even been a blip on Murdoc's radar if it weren't for me! And Nikki? This was just her warped way of getting _closer_ to _me_! No matter how you look at it, it all comes back to me!"

He watched Jack put his beer down on the floor. He had no idea he'd even been crying until his friend reached out with his now free hand to wipe away a few tears from his cheeks. He flinched away from the touch and attempted to get up again, but Jack wouldn't allow it. MacGyver growled inwardly, banging his head back against the wall in frustration. "Jack, please, just let me go!" he begged.

"No way, man. That's not how friendship works. It's not how _family_ works. You need to deal with this, and I am not gonna let ya' deal with it alone!" He paused a moment to let his words sink in. "Now, tell me what happened with Nikki," he prodded gently. "You shot her?"

"She was going to shoot you," Mac said, as if feeling the need to defend his actions. "Besides, she's the one who set this whole plan in motion," he added incredulously, choosing anger because it was so much easier than the other emotions fighting to take centre stage.

Jack made sure to fill his next words with all the sincerity he felt in his heart. "None of that changes the fact that she was your first love; that you still loved her right up until five minutes before you shot her," he said softly. "And I'm so sorry you were forced to kill her to save me."

The last statement had MacGyver's attention whipping around to face him, a hardness to his gaze that Jack had never seen in those blue orbs before... and hoped he'd never see again. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat," the kid swore vehemently.

Jack nodded, accepting the pure devotion with the gravity it deserved. "And what about your dad?" he probed carefully.

This time, Mac was finally able to tear himself free of Jack's hold. He lunged to his feet, then stumbled a bit, doing his best to ignore the wave of dizziness and nausea that tried to consume him.

Remaining where he was for now, Jack watched his friend closely. "Nick told me how Murdoc made you watch what happened… while he _listened_!"

Mac started for the door. He _needed_ to escape. This was not a safe conversation. Suddenly, Jack was in front of him, blocking his path. MacGyver tried to pass but his friend sidestepped him with little effort. With another growl of frustration, Mac shoved him back angrily, then changed course, heading further into the room instead. "My dad helped Murdoc kidnap you," he declared. "He _drugged_ me, then held me prisoner to keep me from saving you!"

"He was still your dad," Jack countered sadly. "Besides, Nick told me Murdoc tricked him. You said it yourself, your dad was trying to protect you. I won't fault him for that."

MacGyver whirled on him now. His eyes flashed with a new kind of blue flame, but Jack could still see the shards of the kid's broken spirit swimming in their depths. "Yeah? And who was protecting _Riley_? Who protected _Frankie_?"

"Riley is gonna be fine, Mac," Jack told him, happy to be able to give him some good news amidst all the tragedy—and kicking himself for not doing so sooner. "Bozer says, she's even insisting on someone grabbing her rig from the Foundation." He saw the sincere relief flicker in the kid's eyes. "I only wish I could say the same about Frankie, man," he said softly. "I'm so sorry about all of this. And for not being there for you."

Mac laughed bitterly again, and, man, did Jack want to get rid of that particular sound once and for all. "You wouldn't have been able to do anything," the kid told him.

"Maybe not, but I coulda _been there_!"

"It wouldn't have mattered. You were one of the victims, Jack. You almost _died._ None of this was your fault."

"And whose was it, Mac? Yours? Not a chance, brother! If anything, you're the reason I lasted as long as I did!" Jack took a few steps toward his partner now, ignoring the silent plea practically emanating off the kid for him to stay away. "Not one second went by when I didn't know that you would find me in time, and that all I had to do was hold on until you got there!"

That was when the room chose to tilt on its axis and spin around MacGyver like a tilt-a-whirl, giving him no choice but to go along for the ride. This particular dizzy spell was caused by pure exhaustion, stress, and having no appetite for the past three days, eating only enough to keep himself standing because the nightmares were just too potent. That said, the beer probably hadn't helped much either.

He stumbled forward, and suddenly Jack was there to catch him. A strong arm banded across his chest; another stretched around his shoulders and back. Their primary purpose was to steady him, but Mac sensed the comfort being offered, as well. He pushed urgently at the hands, managing to stumble away a few steps before Jack caught him and wrapped his arms around him again. He felt the hand card through his hair, and was abruptly reminded of when is father had done the same thing the day before.

" _You need to rest, Angus."_ Then: _"Please. I just don't want you to die, son. I'm begging you. Stay with me."_

Mac yanked himself free. He hauled his fist back and punched 'his father' square in the jaw… then he froze. Abruptly realizing it was Jack he had just punched, not his father, MacGyver's eyes shone with emotion.

Jack recovered quickly. MacGyver was exhausted, deprived of both food and sleep; the punch hadn't really packed all that much of a, well, punch. Jack's gaze found the blond in question, and he saw the blatant guilt in the blue eyes.

"Mac, it's okay—"

But before he could finish, the kid ran for the door again. Jack couldn't let him leave the room, not in his current state of mind. He raced after him, arriving at MacGyver's back just as the lock was disengaged and the door was opened a foot or two. The blond took one step out into the hallway—

Jack grabbed him by the shoulders, hauling him back into the room. He promptly slammed the door closed, locked it, and once again placed himself between it and his partner.

MacGyver's eyes darted from one side of the room to the other, much like a caged animal. He had to get out; he _had_ to get out; _he had to get_ _out_ _!_ Then the scream Mac had bottled up for so long erupted from deep within, threatening to bring him to his knees with its intensity. Guttural. Primal. Pent up rage, agony, and tears, all mixed together to make one highly combustible genius.

In fact, the hoarse scream was so unsettling, it almost had Jack rethinking his methods. Almost. But instead, he stepped forward and enveloped the kid in a bone crushing embrace, holding him tighter than he'd ever thought possible. Wanting desperately to absorb some of that pain.

"No!" Mac yelled, shoving at Jack's chest even as the first sob tore free. He folded over in an almost physical pain, feeling like he was being ripped apart from the inside out. He made one more desperate attempt to pull away, but the plan backfired as his and Jack's legs got tangled, bringing them both down to the floor in a heap—with MacGyver sprawled in his friend's lap!

The blond fought to sit up, to _get away,_ but his limbs wouldn't obey his commands! Then he felt Jack's arms close around him, pulling him back against his chest. He pushed with all his might to free himself. It was too much—it was just _too much_! If he fell apart, he may never recover again.

As soon as they fell to the floor, Jack had seized the opportunity for what it was. Ignoring Mac's struggles, he gathered him into his arms, no longer allowing him to hide from the tidal wave of emotions he was valiantly trying to keep inside. The kid was literally vibrating with the effort to hold everything in, reminding Jack of another time when his partner had been suffering, although that had been from a physical ailment as opposed to emotional.

Forcing himself to remain in the present, because Mac needed him _in that moment_ more than he ever had before, Jack cinched the kid closer, tucking the blond head beneath his chin and wrapping him up tightly in his arms.

"Don't!" Mac demanded, voice muffled by the fabric of the black t-shirt stretched across Jack's chest. "I can't!"

"Yes, you can, kiddo. Just let _me_ be strong for _you_ for once. This much pain would break any man, brother. You hear me? But I _promise_ , I'm not goin' anywhere this time! Okay? I'm right here. Murdoc is back in prison where he belongs, and I'm _not_ goin' _anywhere_!"

"Please, Jack… it hurts too much!"

"You're always so friggin' strong, kid. You saved my life more times than I can count; helped me through my own trauma just a few minutes ago! Please, bud, please let me help _you_ this time!"

Another sob tore free, but with Mac continuing to struggle against his hold, Jack knew it was more about the kid losing the fight, than it was about him accepting the comfort. And that right there broke Jack's heart.

"Just let go, bud! Let it _go_!"

Trauma of this magnitude could only be contained for so long before it finally demanded release. And, it would seem, Mac's multiple traumas were choosing that very moment to demand their release. Jack was just relieved he was there to help his friend through it—whether said friend _wanted_ the help or not!

Yet another sob wrenched itself free, followed quickly by another. Jack pushed the sweat soaked bangs off Mac's forehead, pressing his jaw against the fevered skin, feeling the kid's wet gasps against his neck. "I gotcha, bud. I gotcha."

Finally giving in, accepting defeat, Mac drew his knees up to his chest, his shoulder braced against Jack's sternum. As another sob tore out of him, he folded forward again, Jack's left knee and arm the only things preventing him from landing face first into the carpet. He was mortified at the way he was clinging to Jack seemingly for dear life, but he no longer had the energy to stop himself. He just couldn't _take it, anymore!_ His body, heart, and soul craved the comfort—even as his mind balked at the very notion of being held, cradled like a child in his best friend's embrace!

Jack didn't try to shush him. He actually didn't say anything at all. He just held on, intuitively knowing that that was what the kid needed just then. Actions speak louder than words 'n all that, and Mac needed more than anything to know that he wasn't alone. That he never had been, not since meeting Jack in the desert—and that he never would be again!

So, Jack cradled him against his chest; he alternated between carding his free hand through the sweat soaked bangs, and cupping the kid's jaw and the side of his neck, rubbing and massaging to ease those muscles. After a few minutes, he even started rocking him a bit.

When the tears finally subsided, more than an hour had passed and, with the pain at least somewhat abated, exhaustion stood front and centre. Before Jack knew it, the kid's weight pressed heavier into his sternum, and he had an armful of sleeping genius.

Knowing that his partner needed sleep to help with the healing, Jack didn't want to wake him for fear that another breakdown would be imminent. If tears were necessary, Jack would be there for his friend; but as healing as the tears were, they were also exhausting the poor kid.

So, with that in mind, Jack readjusted his hold. Slipping one arm beneath Mac's knees, and the other below his shoulders, he heaved the kid up into his arms, then rose to his feet and traversed the short distance to the beds.

Setting Mac gently down on the mattress, Jack covered him up with blankets from the other bed. He dragged one hand across his own scalp, then down his face, before staring down at his young friend for a long moment. After the last few days, Jack didn't really want to be away from Mac; and he was pretty sure the feeling was mutual, even if the kid would never actually admit it.

So, with that thought in mind, instead of walking the few feet to the second bed, Jack kicked off his shoes and climbed over Mac, falling asleep on top of the covers almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

A few hours later, he woke to Mac tossing and turning in his sleep, mumbling non-sensical words. Only half awake, Jack wasn't sure what to do.

"Jack?" Both query and plea wrapped into that one sleep-slurred word, and it simultaneously broke Jack's heart in two, and helped him to recognize what action was needed.

Without wasting another second, he slipped one arm beneath the slender shoulders, and lifted, gently easing his young friend over until the blond head was laying on his chest, his own stubbled chin resting against Mac's scalp.

The kid struggled at first, prideful even in slumber, but Jack just added his other arm to the embrace and kept a firm hold of him until he slipped back into a deeper sleep.

As he drifted off to sleep himself, arms still cocooning the slender form, Jack couldn't help but smile when he realized the nightmare that had been terrorizing his friend just moments earlier seemed to have disappeared almost immediately.

TBC

 _A/N 2 The previous 12 chapters made up a long and winding road whose sole purpose was to reach the h/c destination that you just read! :-) So, I really, really hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! There will be one more chapter to tie up lose ends but, other than that, this is it, folks! :-D Was it worth the ride? ~Kelcor_


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N Sorry for the delayed chapter... but this is the longest one for this story so far! I hope that makes up at least a little bit for the delay? I've actually been finishing up the edits for my book, which was just published TODAY! :-D_

 _A/N 2 I thought this would be the final chapter, but there are still a few loose ends I want to tie up. However, in the interest of not making you wait any longer for an update, I'm posting this morning. The final chapter may end up being quite a bit shorter and more like an Epilogue, but you never know. :-) Anyway, without further ado..._

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

MacGyver eased into wakefulness the next morning to the sound of a drum beating steadily in his ear. Despite the fact that he was stretched out on one of the hotel's luxurious king size beds—with absolutely no memory of how he got there—he felt oddly… secure.

Then the bed moved beneath him. As far as he could remember they hadn't requested a room with water beds. If he hadn't already opened his eyes, Mac would have been left with the distinct impression that he was still asleep, possibly dreaming about being adrift at sea.

A wave of nausea suddenly swept over him, and it had nothing to do with sea sickness. Because, in that moment, he remembered his meltdown the night before. Falling apart. Tears streaming down his face. _Sobbing_ in Jack's arms.

As those fragments of memory fell into place, other facts also presented themselves.

Like the fact that Jack's right arm was encircling his back, holding him close into his side—protective even in sleep. MacGyver's head was resting on his shoulder and chest, and the sound of his partner snoring came from directly above his head.

The flush of embarrassment crept up Mac's throat and burned his cheeks with self-recrimination. But his mortification was quickly replaced by a deep, unadulterated sadness, mixed with an equally profound joy.

His father was dead. Frankie was dead. Nikki was dead.

But Jack was most definitely alive. Riley was recovering in Cedar Sinai. Bozer hadn't been blown up in the home he and Mac shared.

He felt the tightness welling up into his chest, but was unable to discern if it was caused by the sadness or the joy. The conflicting emotions were overwhelming. Suffocating. He covered his mouth with one hand to drown out the sob as it seeped past his defenses.

Not wanting to wake Jack, and also needing space to pull himself together so that he wouldn't need to face a repeat of the night before, MacGyver gently eased his friend's arm off his shoulders and carefully made his way over to the opposite side of the bed.

Still feeling the effects of the past few days, not to mention the exhaustion of his emotional outburst just hours before, MacGyver barely had enough energy to make it across the room. But as he slumped down to sit with his back against the wall his gaze landed on his sleeping partner. It really shouldn't have surprised him when he was unable to tear his eyes away.

Jack was alive. Murdoc had failed. _Nikki_ had failed.

Another sob escaped, this one definitely laden with relief, but also tinged with the painful combination of _'what-ifs'_ and ' _what-could've-beens'_.

He'd come so close to losing his best friend forever! And what about Frankie? He'd always been too shy, too afraid of rejection, too certain that his admission would ruin their friendship. But now, he was left with the knowledge that he would never really know for sure. What he did know was that Frankie would have been ten-thousand-times better than Nikki in the 'stable relationship' department.

His mind took him back in time without his permission —

" _You think I would want to be with you after you've killed all my friends? After you've betrayed me? Again!"_

 _The hope in her eyes quickly morphed into hatred as she returned her attention to Jack. "I haven't killed all your friends yet," she said, cocking her gun. "Maybe once dear ol' Jack isn't around to bad mouth me, you'll remember how good we were together."_

 _"No! Wait! I'll go with you! Just don't kill him!"_

 _She studied him closely. "You're a horrible liar," she told him, as she advanced on them, Sig Sauer aimed point-blank at Jack. At that trajectory, the bullet would hit Jack at centre mass. There was no way he'd be able to survive that shot._

 _Mac scrambled to get the gun out from beneath his waistband at the small of his back. Jack's Glock. He whipped it out and took quick aim at his former girlfriend; he didn't even have time to think, not that any thought would have changed his decision._

 _BANG!_

Drawing his knees up to his chest, Mac rested his forehead on top of them, crossing his arms around his stomach against the physical pain he was feeling. He wiped angrily at the tears in his eyes before they had a chance to fall. What was wrong with him? He'd always been able to keep such a tight rein on his emotions—

Mac jumped when a calloused hand landed on the back of his neck. "You okay, brother?" Jack's tired voice asked.

He looked up to find Jack sitting down next to him, somewhat mirroring his position with legs bent up and one arm resting on his knees. Mortified, the blond groaned and made a desperate, yet exhausted attempt to shrug off the undeniably comforting touch, but Jack simply hauled him back, cinching him into his side.

"Jack—" Mac blushed when the word came out more as a whimper than demand.

"You seriously think one night of release was enough? It don't work like that, bud. In fact, after what you went through, I wouldn't be surprised if you needed another several hours of tears _and talking_ before the healing really starts to take hold."

MacGyver bit his lip, keeping his face downcast, away from his friend's all-too-knowing gaze, trying desperately to regain control. To stop the _friggin' tears_ from falling! Suddenly, he felt Jack's hand slip through and cup his chin, firmly tilting his face up so he could get a better look at him. Mac promptly squeezed his eyes shut against the scrutiny.

"Look at me," Jack said, gently wiping Mac's tears off his cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. " _Look_ at me," he repeated, this time as an order with absolutely no wiggle room.

No matter how hard he tried, Mac just couldn't ignore that tone, taking him back to working as an EOD specialist with Jack as his CO. So, he opened his eyes and, once again, Jack knocked his own walls down, allowing a view of everything he was feeling… and at the top of that list was his blatant love for MacGyver.

The love he'd always longed for from his father.

 _"Shhhh," Murdoc insisted, as if he were sitting in a movie theater, eating popcorn and drinking soda—and how disturbing was it to think that maybe he was doing just that? "You're gonna miss the best part!"_

 _Another camera snapped into focus, showing James from a different angle as he picked up the photo of himself and Mac on their fishing trip. He stared down at the picture wistfully._

 _The video suddenly switched to slow motion…_

 _The living room window shattered. "No!" Mac shouted, jolting so hard that his feet thumped heavily against the floorboards of the GTO. Eyes wide with shock, he was able to do nothing but watch helplessly as his father slowly crumpled to the floor. The blood spread across his shirt at an alarming speed, even while in slow motion._

 _Seconds later, the screen split, showing the two feeds simultaneously. The second camera quickly zoomed in, seemingly on its own, zeroing in on James MacGyver's sightless eyes!_

Mac was biting his lip so hard now, so desperate to keep the deluge at bay, that one tooth pierced the skin. He could feel the blood sliding down his chin but couldn't bring himself to care.

"Stop it, Mac!" Jack ordered, both palms framing MacGyver's face now. "Stop fighting this, bro. You're hurting yourself!"

 _"You didn't love me enough, Mac! Not enough to leave with me!"_

 _"No! Wait! I'll go with you! Just don't kill him!"_

 _Mac scrambled to get the gun out from beneath his waistband at the small of his back…_

 _BANG!_

Still cupping one side of Mac's face with his left hand, Jack moved his right up to push the damp blond strands up off the flushed forehead. The kid was trying so hard to stay in control, he was literally working up a sweat. A _fevered_ sweat, at that. Not healthy. Not healthy, at all.

The night before, Jack had pushed his friend into opening up; held onto him until he gave in to the emotional smorgasbord coursing through him. This time, it had to be _Mac's_ choice. But MacGyver had spent the past 15 to 20 years of his life certain that he had to be the strong one all the time. How did you convince a guy with that kind of conditioning that it was okay to be vulnerable once in a while?

"It's killin' me to see you like this, kid," he said softly. "Please, don't do this to me. Just let go… _please!"_

Mac clenched his teeth against the temptation to do as Jack asked, to just let himself go. Because, to be honest, part of him was tired of holding it all in. But a larger part was terrified of the repercussions of showing that kind of vulnerability.

He shook his head, his next words floating out on a whisper of air. "I can't, Jack. What if it doesn't stop? What if—?"

"I'll stay with you for as long as it takes, brother," Jack said faithfully, framing Mac's face with both hands again.

Jack had more than earned MacGyver's trust over the years. But the past few days had put doubts in Mac's mind—not in Jack but in humanity… in _himself_!

"My mom didn't stay," Mac choked out. "Nikki didn't stay. My own _father_ didn't even stick around. Why would you?"

The hurt MacGyver saw flash through his friend's eyes made him regret his words. Because, as much as he was trying to push Jack away, he _really_ didn't want him to leave. Still, he prepared himself as best he could for the inevitable.

But it didn't happen. If anything, the resolve in Jack's gaze seemed to strengthen. He continued to hold Mac's face in his hands, needing him to see the truth. "First of all, your mom didn't have much of a choice in the matter and, from what you've told me about her, I am 100 percent certain that, given that choice, she never would have walked away from you in a million years." Mac tried to pull away but Jack held firm. "No, you started this conversation, bud, and I'm gonna finish it."

Mac grit his teeth, a little bit of defiance entering his own gaze.

"Secondly, bro, I have to say, I'm more than a bit offended at being compared to Nikki. A triple agent who seduced you to get you to trust her, then trampled on your heart with no concern for the damage that she'd cause? Seriously, dude? I think, I've proven myself to you in the trust department."

The emotions started to well up again at the realization that his partner had a point. Mac shoved them down with dogged determination.

"And, lastly, your dad was a friggin' idiot!" Jack spat. "I mean, I know I'm not supposed to speak ill of the dead 'n all that, but come on! Anyone stupid enough to voluntarily walk away from you, is a bonafide nutcase in my book!" he said, solidifying his grip on his friend when he tried yet again to pull free. "I can't tell ya', kid," he continued softly, "how many times I wish I had been your dad!"

That got Mac's attention whipping back to him. His eyes were wide and still full of emotion, but at least some of that emotion had been replaced with a tiny bit of hope. As if Mac had wished the same thing on occasion… and Jack could only pray that were true.

"I know for dang sure that I would've never walked out on you," Jack vowed. "And I won't walk out on you now, either!"

Mac tried to stop himself but the words slipped out anyway… "There's no way you can promise that," he whispered.

"You look into my eyes and tell me it that's a promise or not," Jack told him. He waited while MacGyver did as he told him, albeit hesitantly, but he knew something else was needed. Something they didn't often say to each other when one of them wasn't dosed with sodium pentothal or facing possible death-by-lightning, but something that Mac clearly needed to hear in that moment. "Even if I'm not your biological dad… I love ya' as if I were, bud. If you don't trust anything else, trust that." When the sob tore free from somewhere deep inside the kid, Jack was ready.

 _"Home is where the heart is," James said with an annoying calm._

 _"If that's true, my home is with Jack; not with you."_

Mac crumpled forward, no longer able to hold everything in—no longer _wanting_ to—and clung to his best friend's arm like it was a life preserver. He was still embarrassed when Jack gathered him into his embrace and held him against his chest; humiliated when he was cradled in the other man's lap and rocked back and forth; mortified when he drew comfort from the sensation of Jack's hand carding through his hair and the fatherly kiss planted on the crown of his head.

MacGyver still felt all those things, even blushed profusely at the child-like treatment, but he no longer feared not being able to return from that brink. He trusted that, when the time came, Jack would be there to pull him back. Because what he had told his dad a few days before was true…

 _"Jack Dalton has been more of a father to me than you have ever been! And he is ten times the role model you could ever hope to be!" Mac swiped tears of rage from his eyes before they could escape, not wanting his father to misconstrue them as weakness._

The fact that Mac no longer worried about Jack seeing his tears was pretty remarkable. But, no, it wasn't that he didn't worry about it—more that, he didn't worry about Jack using that weakness and vulnerability against him; he knew without a doubt that Jack would never take Mac's pain and throw it back at him, or exploit it for some kind of personal gain.

The same could definitely _not_ be said of his father.

So, when Mac made one more attempt to pull away from Jack's embrace, it wasn't because he feared recrimination, it was because of wounded pride, plain and simple.

And, when Jack hauled him back and held him firmly within the protective circle of his arms, Mac knew it wasn't because Jack was trying to gain the upper hand, it was an act of friendship, and love—which was not so plain, and certainly not simple.

The tears kept flowing; the sobs continued to slip free of Mac's tenuous hold… and, in those moments, Angus MacGyver's true healing began.

As Jack felt Mac's weight lean a bit heavier into him, he knew the kid had finally cried himself to sleep. It had taken longer this time around, at least a couple hours, probably more. Jack hadn't been checking his watch, because the length of time didn't matter in the least. All that mattered was the kid currently curled up in his arms.

The tears hadn't been constant but each time they tapered off, Jack still kept a hold of his friend because he knew, _he knew,_ that there was more. There had to be. This wasn't just from the past few days. This pain went back years, probably straight back to when Mac's mom died.

Once the dam broke, everything the kid had compartmentalized over the past two decades came bubbling to the surface, reaching desperately for a long-sought release. And, sure enough, every time the tears stopped, every time Jack refused to let Mac go, a few minutes later they started flowing again, until the river finally dried up.

Even though he was asleep now Jack continued to hold him just to ensure no nightmares tried to get their hooks into him. But he held on for selfish reasons, too.

When Jack had been in that coffin, as confident as he'd been that Mac would find him, a small part of him knew that the blond genius wouldn't be quite as certain of his abilities. And it broke Jack's heart that he couldn't be there for his young friend.

So, while Mac snored softly in his arms, Jack's excuse for not letting go was that he was making up for lost time. Then he looked down at the kid curled up in his lap, and quickly realized that if Mac remained in that position for much longer, he'd wake up with a totally different kind of pain in his neck—one that didn't wear a black t-shirt and matching jeans; one that didn't insist he face up to his long pent up fears of abandonment.

The former Delta Commando smiled warmly as he took in the sleeping MacGyver, who looked ten years younger in that moment, then maneuvered the kid around so he could slip one arm beneath the bent knees, and the other behind the sloped back. Then Jack shifted to his knees with Mac cradled securely in his arms. Still exhausted from his own ordeal over the past few days, Jack took a fortifying breath, then climbed to his feet being careful not to lose his grip on his precious cargo.

Mac stirred suddenly, and Jack froze. The last thing he wanted to do was wake the kid. So, he waited another moment. Once he was certain his friend was still asleep, he moved over to the bed and slowly laid him out on top of it, easing him down onto the pillows. Carding his hand through the blond hair one final time, Jack's heart swelled when Mac leaned into his touch.

A few minutes later, he moved to the other side of the hotel room, as far away as he could get while still keeping an eye on the sleeping genius, and pulled out his phone to call Bozer.

There was another kid he had to check in on.

Bozer disconnected the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket, feeling relief course through him at the knowledge that both Mac and Riley were going to be okay. He was pretty certain that the muscle of the team had withheld a lot when it came to his own captivity, but Bozer was immensely thankful that Jack was okay, too.

Come to think of it, the guy had been pretty vague when it came to telling him how Mac was holding up. Bozer didn't let that worry him, though. He knew that beneath Jack's tough exterior was someone who would never, ever let anything bad happen to Mac—physically or emotionally.

 _TEN MONTHS AGO_

 _Bozer paced back and forth in Matty's office, waiting to hear about the team's return from the junkyard. He was still mad at Mac for lying to him all those years, and he was darn well gonna tell him as much, but that didn't mean he wanted his best friend to be hurt in any way. He still loved the guy, after all. He was just angry… and, if he were to be completely honest with himself, hurt._

 _The last thing he'd heard was Jack and Riley going off to save Mac from the George-Washington-mask-wearing psychopath, then all comms went silent. That was about an hour ago._

 _The door behind him suddenly opened, and Bozer made sure to put his own mask on—the angry and betrayed roommate one—as he spun around to face Mac!_

 _Except it wasn't Mac. It was a former Delta Commando who looked a whole heck of a lot angrier than Bozer could ever_ _hope_ _to look. Whoa! All the fry-cook-slash-soon-to-be-film-producer could think was 'What'd_ _I_ _do?'_

 _Jack pointed one finger at him, face as stern as Bozer had ever seen from the usually happy-go-lucky Jack Dalton. "Boy," he growled, "you had better get that look off your face, right now!"_

" _What look?" Bozer asked, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly, while doing his best to hide a steadily growing fear behind his anger._

" _The indignant, self-righteous, 'ooh, Mac hurt my feelings' look," Jack told him, being sure that his imitation of Bozer's voice was sufficiently whiney._

" _Hey—" Bozer began, an all new kind of irritation flaring up._

" _Don't you 'hey' me," Jack scolded. "Right now, I'm gonna talk. And you, son," he said, signalling Bozer to zip it when he opened his mouth to argue again. "You are going to shut up and listen."_

 _Bozer's teeth clacked slightly when he shut his mouth, eyes going wide as he realized, for all he knew, Jack was some kind of psychopathic mercenary._

" _Mac is down in Medical, right now—"_

" _Is he alri—?" Bozer snapped his mouth shut again when Jack made a zipping motion across his lips, just thankful the man wasn't sliding his finger across his throat._

" _He's fine. Physically. A few scrapes and bruises, nothin' that won't heal in a week or so. Emotionally is a different story." Jack advanced on Bozer now, until he was within arm's reach. "When he walks through that door, you are going to tell him that you forgive him, and you_ _are_ _going to mean it. You hear me?"_

" _He lied to me for years, Jack! Why should I let him off the hook so easily?"_

" _Because he is the best thing that ever happened to either of us, and you know it!" Jack exclaimed, driving his point home with the jab of a finger to the centre of Bozer's chest._

" _I used to think that," Bozer said, hating the fact that he was pouting now. "But after tonight…" his words trailed off, his anger being quickly replaced by a deep-seated sadness. Mac wasn't the only one who'd been lied to in the past. His history wasn't nearly as painful as Mac's, but still._

" _Look," Jack started, expression softening somewhat. "I know it hurts to be lied to. Trust me, I know. But he really was trying to protect you, Boze."_

" _Clearly, that didn't work too well."_

" _You think, Murdoc is the first killer who would've wanted to go after the people Mac loves the most, man? He's just the first one who had a connection to the one person—and, yes, I mean Nikki—who was able to tell him who those people_ _are_ _! If Mac hadn't kept you in the dark for as long as he had, you woulda been mowed down crossing the street coming home from your favourite Chinese restaurant, or run off the road going to the grocery store for milk 'n cookies,_ _ **a**_ _ **long**_ _ **friggin' time ago**_ _!"_

" _But—"_

" _No 'buts', Bozer. Mac doesn't have a deceptive bone in his body, and you know it. So, his lyin' to you_ _had_ _to be to protect you, otherwise he wouldn't've been able to do it! So, stop with the boo-hoo'ing and the woe-is-me, and forgive the guy already… so that maybe he can start forgivin' himself!"_

 _Five minutes after Jack left the office, Bozer still wasn't sure if he could just offer absolution to Mac so easily. Then he saw his best friend approaching the office from the elevator, each step looking like it weighed a hundred pounds, head hung low with dread. Looking like the epitome of a kicked puppy._

 _And Bozer knew in that moment, that he couldn't_ _not_ _forgive him. He loved the guy too darn much!_

Bozer was yanked back to the present when his phone rang. He looked at the Caller ID… and froze!

Jack tried his best to give Mac space as they packed up to leave. The kid's cheeks had been tinged with pink ever since he woke up curled into Jack's side for the second time in a row and all in one night. But what was Jack supposed to do? Just let the kid be attacked by his near-perfect recall in his dreams, too? Not a chance.

Poor Sparky was 'roused' from his charging session with no idea of what happened over the past four days. Jack wished he could rid both himself and Mac of the memories, too.

"I know you're nothing like Nikki," Mac said suddenly from across the room, voice so soft that Jack wouldn't have even heard him if he wasn't attuned to everything Mac at that moment.

"I should hope so," Jack said, praying his next statement wouldn't be too soon, but knowing that the kid needed something lighthearted for a change. "Dude, I would never, _ever,_ use my power of seduction to get what I want from you."

Mac's jaw dropped, unable to believe what his partner had just said.

"I mean, sure, maybe I'll buy you a beer or something, but never I'd never seduce," Jack reiterated with an exaggerated shiver. "No offense, brother, but you're just not my type."

The blond was silent for so long, Jack thought he'd made the wrong move. Then the smallest of smiles quirked up the kid's mouth, and the sparkle Jack had missed for so long shone in the blue eyes. Next thing he knew, a pillow was lobbed at his head.

"You're such a moron," Mac chuckled.

Just then, Jack's cell phone rang. He patted his pockets, looking for the device, then finally realized he had left it on the nightstand next to his bed. He strode the few steps to the nightstand to pick up the phone. "It's Bozer," he said, accepting the call. "Hey, Boze, what up? We're just gettin' ready to head back… What?… Oh, yeah, okay, just sec…" he pulled the phone away from his ear, motioning for Mac to come over as he placed the phone on speaker. "Okay, Bozer, you're on speaker. What's up?"

"Are you sure, Jack? Cuz, I know you and technology don't usually mesh very well, and Mac _really_ needs to hear this—"

Jack turned to Mac with a roll of the eyes. "I'm here, Boze," Mac told him, a slight grin on his face. "What's going on?"

"Dude! I wanted to call and tell you right away, but I also didn't want to get your hopes up, so I had them double check and triple check their findings, and then—"

"Bozer!" Jack and Mac all but yelled into the phone simultaneously.

"Sorry, sorry," Bozer said sheepishly. Then his tone took on all the seriousness of a scientist. "Your friend at CSI sent me the results because he didn't want to wake you guys up… Ummm… I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Boze, if you don't tell us right now…" Jack threatened, allowing the guy's imagination to fill in the gap of what the ramifications might be. He and Mac smirked when they were able to practically hear Bozer's eyes widen in alarm.

"The burned-up corpse at that warehouse… it wasn't Frankie, Mac."

Mac's jaw dropped yet again, eyes filling with emotion. Was that even possible? No. He couldn't allow himself to believe, only to have to deal with her death all over again. And what were the chances that Frankie had not-died twice in her lifetime?

It was only when Jack's calloused palm gripped the back of his neck that MacGyver realized he hadn't said anything. "That," his voice broke, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "That's impossible, Boze. I saw her… I _heard_ her."

"You know as well as I do, Mac—DNA doesn't lie."

"Are you sure you saw her?" Jack interjected, brown eyes studying his partner intently.

At first, the annoyance in Mac's gaze was unmistakeable. Then realization dawned. "No," he admitted. "I only saw the back of her head." His eyes filled again, this time with hesitant relief. Could it be…? "But I heard her voice."

"That can be faked," Jack reminded him. "A recording, voice impersonator…" he stopped, seeing that Mac was taking it all in. "Uh, Boze, thanks for the info. We'll call you back in a minute, okay?" Without waiting for a response Jack disconnected the call with thumb of the same hand that was holding the phone, not wanting to break the connection with Mac right then, sensing the kid might lose touch with reality if he did. This emotional roller coaster had to stop at some point, didn't it? Hopefully, before this kid suffered a nervous breakdown. "You okay, brother?"

"The photo could have been photo-shopped," Mac said deliberately. "I should have checked that," he added, his voice heavily laden with self deprecation now. "How could I have been so stupid?" he exclaimed, turning away from Jack to begin pacing.

Jack grabbed him by the arm, spinning him back to face him. "Hey, now," he said. "Let's keep the blame in the place it belongs, and that's with Nikki and Murdoc. Got it?"

Giving Jack an appreciative glance, Mac nodded his reluctant agreement to that, then resumed his pacing. He pulled up the keypad on his phone and dialled Frankie's number from memory.

"But why the song and dance number?" Jack asked. "And what if…" he let his voice trail off, eyes never leaving Mac who's tension was clearly rising with every second that Frankie didn't answer her phone.

"He killed her anyway, just somewhere else and nobody's found the body yet?" Mac finished for him, giving up and disconnecting the call. He grabbed his duffel off the bed and headed for the door. "I don't know, Jack. I guess, I'll have to pay him another visit and find out." Mac winced as soon as the words left his mouth knowing that he'd just let the cat out of the bag.

But maybe his partner wouldn't notice. Maybe he'd just think Mac was referring to when he was last at the prison for the undercover op which had Mac impersonating Murdoc to catch the group who'd hired him to kill Joshua Abdal Khan. Maybe…

All Mac's 'maybes' went out the window as realization registered in Jack's eyes and, in true Jack fashion, he asked the exact right question to get an answer that MacGyver had been trying to keep to himself for weeks. "Please, tell me you haven't gone to him again since the whole 'teach you to be a serial killer' fiasco?"

Mac averted his eyes, which told Jack all he needed to know. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger for a second before dropping his hand to make steady eye contact with Mac again. "Come on, kid, I know you've seen _Silence of the Lambs,_ because we watched it together when I was teaching you the difference between horror movies and classic thrillers."

"Jack, it was only a few times," MacGyver said in his 'don't overreact about this' tone.

"A few times? Seriously, dude. What were you thinking?" Jack's voice began to climb in both volume and panic. "Do you not remember what happened to Clarice? I mean, it's no wonder he—" Jack suddenly cut himself off, realizing what he was about to say would be misinterpreted by his still emotionally traumatized friend. The look in the kid's eyes told him his pre-emptive strike came approximately six words and one comma too late.

"What were you gonna say, Jack? No wonder he kidnapped you? No wonder he tried to kill everyone I lov—everyone I care about?" he knew Jack had used that word the night before but Mac just wasn't ready to do the same yet, not under these circumstances, anyway.

Not bothering to wait for the answer he knew was coming, MacGyver spun away from his friend and started for the door again.

Jack took the bag out of his hand and held it out of his reach. Mac tried to get it from him a couple times, then gave up. He was _so not_ in the mood for this. "Fine," he growled. "You carry it to the car. As a matter of fact, enjoy your drive back to LA on your own. I'll just try to trade in my plane ticket for a different flight."

"Son of a—" Jack bit back the rest of what he was going to say and tossed the duffel onto the bed behind him, briefly wondering how someone who was so smart, could be so stupid sometimes. In two large strides, he made it to the door before his partner, then planted himself in front of it.

After what had happened the night before and now this, Jack was starting to feel like he'd reverted back to his days as a bouncer before being recruited into the Army. "Will you please just stop puttin' words in my mouth and give me a minute to explain? None of this was your fault, Mac. The sooner you get that through your thick skull and into that ginormous brain of yours, the better it'll be for both of us."

"You were just about to say—"

"Ah!" he exclaimed, raising one finger in warning. "What did I just say about puttin' words in my mouth, brother?"

Mac clamped his mouth shut but that didn't stop the withering glare from oozing out of those blue orbs of his.

"What I was _going to say_ was that it's no wonder he knew exactly how to hurt you. He got into your head, Mac, whether you like it or not. He got into your head and figured out what would hurt you the most. What he chose to do with that information is on him… and Nikki," he added gently, knowing that the blond haired, blue eyed black widow was still a soft spot for his young friend. "You got a big heart, brother. Some people in this world won't hesitate to use that to their advantage."

"I _needed_ to talk to him, Jack. I needed to find out what he knew about… I needed to make sure my dad was safe."

"I get that, Mac. I really do. I just wish you'd start worrying about yourself as much as you worry about the people around you."

Mac's gaze softened as Jack's words sunk in. "I'm sorry for yelling at you," he whispered, emotions still hovering a little too close to the surface for his comfort.

Jack placed a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing slightly to get his attention. "Please, tell me you understand what I'm telling you here, bud."

"I do," Mac assured him.

"Good," Jack said, pulling him in for a brief hug, then releasing him so they could both grab their bags. "Now, let's call Bozer on the way home. I wanna go to Cedar Sinai to check on Riley first, then we can head to Boston first thing tomorrow morning to see what's what."

"We?"

"You didn't think I was gonna let you go alone, now did you?"

"Thanks, Jack," Mac said sincerely, unable to imagine what he would have done if the last few days had turned out differently. He took a deep breath, then: "I want to talk to Murdoc before we go to Boston, though."

"You really think he's gonna tell us the truth?"

"No. But I have to try. Like you said, just because Frankie wasn't the one in that warehouse, doesn't mean Murdoc didn't do something else to her."

Jack sighed heavily. He had hoped he'd never have to see that psychopath again.

"You don't have to—" Mac began, cutting himself off when Jack's gaze told him exactly what he thought of that particular plan.

"Yeah, as if I'd let you be alone in a room with that guy again. Like, ever," he admonished while opening the door and waiting for Mac to precede him out into the hall. "Just promise me, no more secrets. Okay?"

MacGyver paused, casting a sideways glance at his partner. "Yeah. About that."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "What?"

Sitting behind the wheel of the GTO, Jack pulled out onto the highway as he and Mac finally made their way back home. "So, let me get this straight," he began. "All those nightmares were about me being sucked into the ground and Frankie being burned alive?"

"Yeah. And I couldn't do anything to stop it. Not only could I not save both of you. I couldn't save _either_ of you."

"And that tree from your dream was the one I was buried next to?"

"Yup."

"Creepy," Jack said, drawing out that one word for the desired effect—which was an eye roll from MacGyver.

"It wasn't a vision, Jack."

"How can you be so sure? I mean, how else do you explain it?"

Mac mulled that over in his mind for a bit. "Murdoc's games always include riddles, right?"

"Yeah," Jack said, flicking his gaze between Mac and the road to indicate he was paying attention.

"Well, he likely threw little key words at me during our conversation. Clues about what he was planning—"

"Oh, you mean like subdural messages?"

Mac smirked. He'd really missed this banter while his partner had been missing. "You mean _subliminal_ messages, Jack."

Jack's face crinkled as he considered that. Mac could see when he just gave up and took what Mac said to be the truth. "Whatever, man," he said with a slight wave of the hand. "Back to the clues."

"He was giving me clues to test me, to see if I was smart enough to figure out his plan in time to stop him. Which I wasn't."

"I beg to differ, brother."

"Jack—"

"First of all, I'm sittin' right here, and Frankie was _not_ the one in that warehouse, so there's still a chance that she's gonna be in Boston when we get there, workin' on her next nerd project and just waitin' for the chance to get her flirt on with you again." Mac opened his mouth to argue but Jack continued to speak right over him, determined to drive his point home. "And, secondly, there will _never_ come a time when you're not smart enough to figure out anything that pyscho has planned. You hear me? Never."

MacGyver pulled a paperclip out of the glove compartment and made ready to fiddle with it but Jack reached out and swiped it out of his hands, earning a surprised glare from Mac.

"None of this was your fault, kid," Jack insisted.

"You already told me that," MacGyver mumbled, snatching the paperclip back.

"And I'll keep sayin' it until you start believin' it."

The remainder of the drive was relatively uneventful with Jack and MacGyver making as few stops as possible, picking up food that could be eaten in the car on the way—a rule Jack dismissed for the time being because they were both anxious to check on Riley and see her progress first hand.

By the time they finally stepped through the sliding doors at Cedar Sinai it was around three in the afternoon. Both men immediately made their way up to Riley's room on the 5th floor.

The bed was empty.

Mac's breath caught in his chest as he stared at the neatly made bed. Fearing the worst had happened, that Bozer had been wrong, or the doctors had been wrong, or _someone_ had been _wrong,_ he could feel the annoying sting of tears in his eyes again. When was this going to _stop?_

He felt Jack's hand grip his forearm, steadying him the way no one else could. Mac turned to look at him, certain that the thoughts running through his mind showed clearly in his eyes. But Jack was pointing behind him, drawing Mac's attention to the other end of the hallway. Mac followed his line of sight.

Coming down the hall with the elevator doors closing behind them were Riley and Bozer. Riley was in a wheel chair, her casted leg propped up by the special extension on the chair. She appeared to be okay otherwise. Smiling, even.

Still, the sight of the cast had Mac swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. As if reading his mind, or more likely his body language and facial expression—although one could never know for sure with the likes of Jack Dalton—his partner leaned over to him, placing a calloused palm on the slope at Mac's neck and shoulder.

Jack squeezed firmly to get his attention and pulled him closer so that his mouth was right at Mac's ear—basically, their version of a hug when in public. "Not your fault, brother," he whispered, then stepped away and strode down the hall to meet their two team members, giving Mac the space he knew his partner needed.

"Hello, darlin'," Jack said, pushing Riley's hair up off her forehead and planting a kiss at the hairline. "How're you feelin'?"

Riley rolled her eyes as his lips came in contact with her skin, but Mac saw the warm blush of pleasure rise up from her neck to her cheeks. Their silent need for fatherly affection was something he and Riley had in common.

"Better," she said, smiling up at Jack then turning her gaze to Mac, as well. "How about you two?"

Jack and MacGyver shared a look, and Jack got a glimpse of the pain once again glistening in his friend's eyes. This time, though, he knew the kid needed some reassurance that Jack wouldn't be able to provide. "Hey, Bozer, why don't you and I head down to the cafeteria for some lunch?"

"I'd rather head down to your car to check on Robot," Bozer said honestly.

"Well, whatever you wanna do, Boze… as long as it's not here." Jack gave MacGyver's oldest friend a pointed look, and Bozer picked up on the not-so-subtle hint, gaze flicking from Mac to Riley and back again, then slowly settling on Jack.

"Uh, yeah, okay, Jack," he said haltingly.

Mac and Riley didn't miss the exchange but they chose to ignore it as the mismatched duo made their way to the elevator with Jack's hand firmly on the slope of Bozer's shoulder to steer him if necessary.

Mac absently hoped Bozer didn't suddenly realize he'd forgotten something because Jack Dalton came with his own version of power steering capability which was second to none. Smiling, MacGyver gripped the handles of Riley's wheelchair and guided her the rest of the way into her hospital room.

Riley tilted her head back to study the expression on his face. "What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

Mac moved to lift her from the chair to her bed but Riley pushed his hands away.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," she told him firmly.

Seeing the determination in her eyes, Mac knew arguing would be pointless, so he knelt on the floor next to her chair and made reluctant eye contact. "Riles, I am so sorry," he told her quietly.

"Mac—" she began.

"This was all my fault," MacGyver rushed on, likely not even noticing that she'd even started to say anything.

"How do you figure?"

"I never should have gotten you involved. Murdoc and… Nikki," he still had a difficult time saying her name without picturing her dead body laying next to the grave she'd helped bury Jack in. _Talk about conflicting emotions,_ he thought to himself before continuing. "They each had different motives but in the end they both wanted to hurt me. So, they went after all the people that I love." He made a move to stand up but was pre-empted by Riley's sudden grip on his wrist.

"First of all," she said, waiting until he locked eyes with her again. "I know how short that list is, and it's an honour to be on it," she told him.

Mac's lips quirked up into a shy smile. He nodded and started to pull away again.

"Hold on," Riley said, not relinquishing her hold just yet. "I'm not done."

"Sorry," Mac responded, looking sufficiently chagrined.

"If you had kept this to yourself, and not allowed me the opportunity to help you find Jack? _That_ would've been something I'd have found difficult to forgive." It was now her turn to look away. "I love him too, y'know."

That pushed Mac's smile from shy to full-on-mischievous. "I'll be sure to pass that on to Jack," he teased.

"Yeah," Riley intoned, " _that_ can never happen."

They both laughed, all tension leaving the room almost immediately.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Riley asked. "Woman with a broken leg here."

Grinning from ear to ear, MacGyver slipped one arm behind her back and the other beneath her legs, then lifted her out of the chair and carried her over to deposit her carefully onto the bed. Before he straightened up again, Riley gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. "You did good, Mac," she whispered, pulling him down into a hug.

Mac returned the embrace. "Thanks, Ri," he said softly, before pulling back and staring down at her intently. "I hate to ask this but Jack and I are flying back to Vegas to question Murdoc and I need your help with something."

"Name it," Riley told him.

TBC

 _A/N 3 I almost forgot to mention, the 'Clarice' bit was a wonderful idea from poxelda!_


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N Wow! I am so sorry this took soooo long! I published this story right around the same time I was publishing my book and before I knew it I was swept up into the marketing of said book and my muse seemed to go POOF! and left me high and dry when it came to inspiration for Everyone Needs a Jack! :-( Right now I'm working on book two of my book series but I knew you all deserved an ending to this. And, to be honest, I really needed to write it! That said, I hope it lives up to all of your expectations! It was so fun to write! I hope it's just as much fun to read! I love you all! It might be a while before I write any new fanfiction but I'll always be hovering in the background . . . okay, that sounded downright creepy. LoL But you know what I mean. And, who knows, if inspiration strikes, you may see me publish a one-shot now and then. ;-) Anyway, without further ado, here is the **long **overdue final chapter of Everyone Needs a Jack in Their Life - Part III. _

_CHAPTER 15_

"You sure you're ready for this, brother?" Jack asked not for the first time.

Mac gave him a sideways grin. "Not really. But I owe it to my dad, to Frankie . . . even to you . . . to find out the truth."

"Hey, now," Jack told him, "you do not owe me a darn thing. Your dad may have been a victim in all this, too, but he brought a lot of it on himself. And the stuff he didn't was _not_ because of you."

"Jack—"

"And I'm all for following this little yellow brick road to find out if Frankie is still alive 'n all," Jack continued, "but I am one hundred percent sure that, regardless of the outcome, she would tell you the same thing."

"I get it, Jack. But I still need to do this alone," MacGyver said as he opened the door to the interrogation room.

Jack watched him go but was not happy about it. Having confirmed that Riley was okay, Mac and Jack had caught a last-minute flight back to Vegas so they could get the answers they'd need in order to find Frankie. Murdoc was currently being held at a high-security location in the Entertainment Capital of the World, and Jack had ensured that every precaution had been taken to protect Mac while inside the interrogation room. But there was very little Jack could do to protect the kid from the lies that were sure to come out of the psychopath's mouth!

So, yeah, he hated this. But. As much as Jack looked at Mac like a son the kid was, in fact, a grown man who was perfectly capable of taking care of himself in any given situation. Well, except for the emotionally traumatizing ones.

Still, Jack had to honour the kid's wishes. Which was why he was standing out there in the hallway while Mac was on the other side of that door with the man who was at least fifty percent responsible for all the crap that had happened over the past few days. Not the least of which was forcing the kid to watch while his own father was murdered and the possible blowing up of his good friend and college-crush Frankie Mallory, also done while Mac could do nothing but watch.

Man, the more Jack thought about it the more he wanted to go into that room and pummel that son-of-a—

"I know what you're thinkin', Jack, and I highly advise against it."

Jack spun around and his jaw loosened somewhat at the sight of his cousin Nick Stokes striding down the hall towards him. "Yeah?" he asked. "Why's that?"

"Well, for one thing, there's a video camera in there and anything you do to Murdoc will be recorded. Don't give him the satisfaction."

"Won't be too satisfied if he's dead," Jack retorted, clenching and unclenching his fists in time with his heartbeat.

Nick came to a stop a few feet away from him, eyebrow arched with disapproval. "Right, because you going to jail is exactly what Mac needs to come from all this!"

"Do cockroach exterminators go to jail for doin' their job?"

"Jack—"

"Relax, law enforcement dude. I'm not actually gonna kill him. No law against dreamin' about it though is there?"

"No," Nick conceded. "No law against dreamin'."

Jack studied his cousin for a moment, not much liking the way his years as a CSI had taken away his innocence. Not that Jack himself was much different after all his years in the Army, not to mention his time with the CIA, DXS, and now the Phoenix Foundation. But at least he and Nick had fond memories of their childhood years to keep them sane, to give them hope.

His gaze found the closed door blocking him from watching over the young man who'd been forced to grow up long before he should have been. Was it really any wonder that Jack strove to protect the kid at any cost? Didn't everyone deserve to feel that kind of love and devotion directed toward them at some point in their lives? To be someone's number one priority?

MacGyver was still a work in progress in that department but Jack wasn't about to give up on something—some _one_ —so important.

"So," Nick said, clearly reading the situation for what it was, "if you're so concerned about your boy why are you standing out here?"

"Why do you think?" Jack snapped not unkindly. He scrubbed one hand over his scalp and moved to lean back against the wall across from the door MacGyver had just disappeared behind. "I promised Mac I wouldn't get involved."

"That doesn't mean you can't keep an eye on him," Nick hinted, tossing one thumb over his shoulder to draw Jack's attention to the door next to the interrogation room.

Jack's eyebrows climbed up to his hairline as the opportunity became clear but the realization that to do what his cousin was suggesting would mean betraying Mac's trust had his shoulders slumping again, one hand moving up to pinch the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. If he thought there was even the tiniest chance that MacGyver was in any kind of physical danger nothing in the world would be able to keep him out of that room. But when it came to emotional threats, sometimes Jack had to rein himself in and trust in his young friend's ability to take care of himself.

"Come on, Jack. This way you can put your own mind at ease that MacGyver is fine while still not interfering when he asked you not to."

* * *

MacGyver sat in a chair opposite Murdoc, nothing but a small rectangular table separating them. The last time he'd heard Murdoc's voice was when Frankie died. Or, if not Frankie, then _some_ innocent who had definitely not deserved the fate Murdoc had forced on her.

"Aren't you going to say something, Boy Scout? Or are you trying to hurt my feelings by giving me the silent treatment? You know, if I had feelings."

Gaze hard and unflinching, Mac waited a count of 30 seconds before saying, "We know it wasn't Frankie in that warehouse, Murdoc. So, who was it and where is Frankie?"

"You always jump right to it don't you, MacGyver? Why would I tell you? What reason could I possibly have to ease your obvious distress in any way?"

"Because you enjoy the game and the game is over. We got the DNA results. You're in prison. Game. Over. You may as well lay your cards out on the table."

"The game isn't over for me. Not yet. First, I want you to let down your walls and show me some of that pent-up pain you've been hiding."

Mac's jaw clenched but he remained silent.

"Come on, Angus. There's still time. Are you really so prideful that you won't show me any vulnerability even when it could mean a chance to save your college sweetheart? Shed a few tears and I promise to tell you where she is."

"How do I know you'll keep your word?"

"Because I was never the one who wanted Frankie dead. I'm all for causing you as much emotional pain as possible before finally putting you in the ground, MacGyver. But Frankie's involvement in all this was not so much about your pain as it was about Nikki's jealousy."

The mention of Nikki had Mac's gut churning.

"Nikki never wanted you to experience pain. She was doing all this for selfish reasons. Silly girl thought that by partnering up with me that meant I wouldn't actually kill you if given the chance."

"Wait. Nikki was trying to protect me from you?" MacGyver asked haltingly.

"Not exactly. Your pain just wasn't her main motivation. She wanted you all to herself, regardless of whether or not someone got hurt in the process. It just so happened that you were one of those people. Besides, she couldn't have paid me enough to keep me from killing you," he winked. "Hashtag life goals 'n all."

"That still doesn't explain why you didn't kill Frankie or why I should trust that you'll hold up your end of the bargain and tell me where she is."

"Tsk, tsk, Angus. Isn't it obvious? Any emotion like infatuation or jealousy or anything else even remotely related to love is weak and meaningless and needs to be exterminated at all costs. Now, my other partner, _he_ knew the advantages that come with keeping an emotional detachment for every job."

"You had another—" MacGyver cut himself off as the final pieces of the puzzle fell into place. "The Ghost."

Murdoc tilted his head from side to side feigning indecision. "Yeah, see, for this particular job I needed someone with a bit more . . . prowess in certain areas than Nikki could provide. And, sadly, delicate explosions aren't really my expertise. I prefer the less intricate versions. Less work, more mess."

"He set up the explosives and the booby traps under Jack's coffin and in the warehouse."

"You got it. So, I'm willing to offer up one person in exchange for what you give me today. Frankie. Or the Ghost."

"Frankie," Mac said without hesitation.

"Oh, but I thought you were so bound and determined to capture the man who killed your EOD training officer. What was his name? Pena? Oh yes, the Ghost had an especially fun time watching that video over and over again. He told me how much he was looking forward to killing your current mentor. Or should I say, father-figure? Hmm, it's sad really that he was deprived of that pleasure—"

"Where is she, Murdoc?"

"You know nothing is ever that easy, MacGyver. I told you, I want something in return. So, come on, out with it," he added, making a swirling motion with one hand.

"Out with what?"

"Tears, MacGyver. I want to _see_ the pain you wouldn't let me hear when you watched your dad die, when you watched or _thought_ you watched Frankie get blown up! And, let's not forget, when you thought dear old Jack was going to die. I even want to see the pain you felt when, from what I've heard, you had to kill your girlfriend. All of it."

"You want me to cry," Mac said, disbelief colouring his tone. "Right here."

"Wow, look at you. You are a genius."

"I can't just cry on cue, Murdoc."

"Yes, I suppose you would be the last person on the planet to win an Oscar what with the way you wear your heart on your sleeve and all. Always the Boy Scout, never the sociopath." Murdoc shook his head in disappointment, then reached across the table. "Give me your phone."

Mac studied him a moment, then reluctantly pulled out his phone and handed it to Murdoc.

* * *

"What the heck is he doin'? That's it," Jack said, making a move for the door. "I'm puttin' an end to this once and for all."

Keeping his eyes on what was happening on the other side of the two-way mirror, Nick blindly latched onto his cousin's elbow. "Mac made you promise not to interfere, Jack. Remember?"

"I've been to this rodeo already, Poncho!"

"After seeing the state Mac was in after everything came to a head with Murdoc, I'm sure you have. But you need follow Mac's lead here. He _needs_ you to trust him, man."

"I know he does," Jack lamented. Although it went against every fibre of his being, Jack acquiesced and watched closely as Murdoc turned the screen of Mac's phone in such a way that would prevent anyone behind the two-way mirror or watching the security feed from seeing what he typed into it.

It was clear that Murdoc knew they were being watched which made the fact that he wanted Mac to break down into tears all that much more reprehensible.

* * *

Murdoc handed the smartphone back to MacGyver. "Press play," he instructed with a barely suppressed glee. When Mac hesitated, he sighed impatiently. "You know, the big white arrow in the middle?"

After another moment, MacGyver finally touched the screen and began to watch his father's death play out all over again.

Blue eyes welled with emotion.

Jaw muscle pulsed with the effort of keeping a tight rein on the emotions threatening to break free.

Cheeks burned with mortification knowing that his pain was on display for all to see.

Murdoc glanced knowingly up at the security camera knowing full-well that the knowledge everything in that room was being recorded would make this show of vulnerability all that much more difficult for his young nemesis. He eyed the blinking red light above the lens with a gleam in his eye. The security guard on the Organization's payroll would be procuring a copy of this little session before Mac even left the building.

BANG!

Murdoc snapped his gaze back to MacGyver. The playback on the recording would never be able to surpass his memory of the live event happening before his eyes as Angus MacGyver watched his father crumple to the floor of his house. The sociopath's gut clenched with excitement as not one but two tears slipped down the pink-tinged cheeks. Even the slender shoulders shook with what had to be the sobs he could no longer keep bottled up inside.

Then—quite suddenly—it was over. MacGyver was wiping the tears off his face, straightening his back, and standing up from his chair. But the most disturbing part for Murdoc was the smile on Mac's face as he turned for the door.

"Wait, what's happening? Where are you going?"

"Oh," MacGyver said, turning to face him again. "Sorry. That's all I've got for you today."

"You were faking it?"

"The whole time," Mac nodded, chuckling softly. "I'm pretty sure the Academy is still accepting nominations for that highly coveted Oscar, by the way. Feel free to give them my name."

Murdoc narrowed his eyes, hatred now boiling over through his gaze. The only thing he'd have now was the recording but he could make due with that. He could pretend. After all, Murdoc was nothing if not imaginative. Stamping down his anger, he gazed at the younger man loftily. "Gloat all you want, MacGyver, but now you will never know where your friend is. She'll die because of you."

Lips quirking with amusement, Mac said, "We already know where she is, Murdoc. You told us all we needed to figure it out." The curve of his lips growing into a full-fledged smile at Murdoc's obvious confusion, MacGyver pulled the earbud out of his ear. "Riley tapped into the signal on my phone and hacked into your little website-for-psychopathy while you were completely taken in by my Oscar-worthy performance."

Enjoying the sight of Murdoc's fury, Mac placed one hand on the doorknob. Then he glanced up at the security camera and, as if just remembering something, he placed the earbud back into his ear. "Oh, Riley, don't forget to delete all the security footage starting with me giving Murdoc my phone."

Murdoc's eyes shot back to the red light on the security camera just in time to see it flicker for a few seconds, then wink out entirely. "Nooo!" he growled. "You can't do this!"

"We already did," Mac told him calmly as he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

* * *

No sooner had Mac closed the door behind him than he found himself enveloped in the hard embrace of one stressed out Jack Dalton! He felt the hand cup the back of his head but Jack seemed to be using the embrace to comfort himself as much as Mac. "Jack? Are you okay?" MacGyver asked tentatively, not sure what was going on.

Over Jack's shoulder, Mac's gaze found an apologetic looking Nick Stokes standing next to a partially open door. The placard on the door read 'Observation Room'. _Aw, man! Jack had seen all that? That was never the plan._

Before MacGyver had time to wrap his arms around Jack in return, the former Delta Commando pushed him away to arm's length. Eyes downcast, Mac said softly, "I'm sorry, big guy. I didn't want you to have to witness that. I just knew Murdoc was going to lie to me and Frankie doesn't have time for his games! I can feel it in my gut, we're running out of—" He risked a glance at his partner's face and was rendered speechless by the toothy grin seconds before being pulled into another rough embrace.

"Are you kidding me, bud? I am so _freakin'_ proud of you right now!"

After several moments, Jack released him and Mac was a little surprised to see him wiping tears off his own face. "So, what now?" Jack asked.

"Now, we let Riley work her magic with a keyboard."

* * *

Using the metadata Riley found on the inner workings of Murdoc's website and, more specifically, on the video he had compiled of Nikki's comings and goings earlier that week, Mac and Jack were able to find Frankie locked in the cellar of an abandoned farmhouse a few hours outside Boston.

Apparently, instead of killing her, Murdoc had arranged for someone to supply her with just barely enough food and water to survive. Still, she was injured from an altercation with Nikki because Frankie was not the type to just let herself get grabbed off the street in the middle of the night without putting up a fight, and she was suffering from malnutrition and dehydration—Murdoc's idea of 'survival' was much different from anyone else's.

Jack stayed outside to guard the door and to keep an eye on the tree line because the someone who brought the supplies could come back at any time. Meanwhile, MacGyver helped Frankie traverse the stairs leading up from the cellar and into the night air. As they walked, he explained his version of the events that had led to her kidnapping and, finally, to her rescue. Which of course almost completely negated his heroic steps to achieve that goal. In fact, the story was quite self-deprecating in Jack's opinion.

"Frankie," MacGyver said as they stepped out to join Jack. "I am so sorry that you got dragged into this. Nikki somehow found out how I felt about you . . . how I _still_ _feel_ about you . . . and—"

Frankie held up her hand to stop him from continuing. Her eyes filling with sadness as she purposefully stepped out of his hold. "I'm sorry, Mac. But . . . I just can't take any heartfelt confessions right now. One emotionally charged experience at a time, okay?"

He studied her a moment. "Okay," he said, watching as she turned and limped to their SUV on her own power.

Jack nudged him in the shoulder, gaze moving between Frankie's retreating back and the steadily darkening tree line. "I'm sure she meant to say 'thank you'," he said, lips quirking in an effort to lighten the mood. It didn't work, leaving Jack to worry that all he'd done to convince Mac that none of what happened was his fault had just all been tossed out the window. "Mac—"

"Not my fault," MacGyver finished for him. "I know, Jack."

"You sure?"

"My head knows it," Mac clarified. "It's just gonna take a bit more time for my heart to catch up."

"Fair enough," Jack nodded.

"Do you know what's going to make that a heck of a lot easier?"

"What's that?"

Mac turned to lock eyes with his best friend. "The fact that you'll be driving me crazy every step of the way."

Jack grinned. "You know it, brother. And, you know, driving you crazy is something I excel at."

"You're not wrong," Mac agreed drily.

"Look, I gotta keep an eye on things until our backup teams get here to gather up all the evidence to track down whoever Murdoc hired to keep Frankie here. And you're about to collapse from exhaustion. Why don't you join Frankie in the SUV and get some things out in the open?"

"I don't know, Jack. She said she didn't want to talk about it."

"I'm not sayin' you gotta tell her you're in love with her. In fact, maybe you don't have to say anything at all yet. Because I'll tell you one thing, that young lady in there needs to talk about what happened as badly as you did before we left Vegas."

Blushing a bit at the memory of Jack's interventions back at the hotel, Mac nevertheless saw the wisdom in his partner's words. He stepped towards the SUV, the suddenly stopped and turned around. "Hey, Jack?"

"Yeah?" Jack asked, pulling his attention away from the tree line and back to MacGyver.

"Thank you."

The sincerity in those blue eyes almost brought tears to Jack's. "Anytime, brother. Anytime."

* * *

Several hours later, their jet touched down at LAX. As they made their way through the airport parking lot towards the GTO, Jack's gaze flicked to his partner. He eyed the dark circles under his eyes, the fatigued gait. "You ready to go home?" he asked.

"Not yet," Mac told him. "I need to stop by Phoenix first."

* * *

Matilda Webber sat at her desk, going over her notes from her visit to Guantanamo. Her head snapped up in surprise when the door to her office opened with more force than necessary.

"MacGyver? How are—?"

"I'm fine," Mac said curtly.

"Okay," she replied, drawing the word out a bit as she attempted to decipher the outrage emanating off her most skilled albeit unpredictable agent. "What are you doing here? Didn't Jack tell you? I gave you both the next two weeks off considering what you—"

"Actually, Jack is the one I'm here to discuss," he said, cutting her off once again.

Matty's gaze snapped to the empty hall outside her office.

"Don't worry, he's waiting for me downstairs. I told him I just needed to come up to clear the air a bit."

The director eyed MacGyver with trepidation and more than a little curiosity. "Well, then, why don't you have a seat, Blondie."

"I won't be here long enough to need one," he said, stepping up to her desk. "Listen, Jack may not be as traditionally educated as most of your other agents but he is the smartest tactician you will ever have the good fortune to meet."

"Mac—"

"He may not speak 'science' very well but he does speak 'MacGyver' better than any I've ever known."

"What's your point?" Matty asked, arms crossing over her chest as her own temper began to flare a little bit.

"My point _is,_ " Mac continued, gritting his teeth against the sudden sting behind his eyes,"if you ever separate me and Jack, you won't need to find me another partner because I will quit the Phoenix Foundation without a second's hesitation. Because there is _no one_ who could replace Jack Dalton." Without another word, he spun on his heel and headed for the door.

"Angus MacGyver!" Matilda said, her voice as stern as she'd ever used on any agent. However, when he turned to face her again, the broken look in his eyes caused her to gentle her tone somewhat. "I know that you've been through a lot this past week—scratch that, you've been through a lot this past _month_ —so, I'm going to let this little outburst of yours slide. But, rest assured, if you _ever_ come into my office and speak to me with such utter disrespect again, you won't have to worry about quitting because I will fire you faster than you can say _improvise_. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," Mac said, rage dissipating a bit as he realized belatedly that perhaps Matilda Webber wasn't the one he should be angry with, maybe it was Oversight proposing to separate him and Jack. He turned to leave again but stopped, considering his next words carefully.

Matty saw MacGyver's back tense as he seemed locked in an internal debate and she couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"I can't lose another member of my family," he finally confessed, voice breaking even while his gaze was locked on the empty hallway beyond the door.

"Understood," Matty responded, maternal instincts for her youngest, most talented field operative kicking into high gear and causing her voice to gentle even further. She'd never had any children of her own but if she had . . .

Mac didn't turn around again. He simply nodded, then pushed the door open and left her office.

As Matty watched him head for the elevator, her mind drifted back to the file on her desk. Little did Mac know that she no longer had any intention of splitting up his and Jack's partnership. Especially not after her little sabbatical to visit Patricia Thornton.

 _THE END_


End file.
